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Itttwrfitty  of  5^flrtl|  Qlariilttta 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 
UNIVERSITY  OF 
NORTH  CAROLINA 


ENDOWED  BY  THE 
DIALECTIC  AND  PHILANTHROPIC 
SOCIETIES 


.13 

1903 


UNIVERSITY  OF  N.C.  AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


1 0003052483 


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Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
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TALES  OF  SPACE  AND  TIME 


* 


Mr.  WELLS  has  also  written  the  following  novels  : 


Love  and  Mr.  Lewisham. 

Kipps. 

Mr.  Polly. 

The  Wheels  of  Chance. 
The  New  Machiavelli. 
Ann  Veronica. 
Tono-Bungay. 
Marriage. 


Bealby. 

The  Passionate  Friends. 

The  Wife  of  Sir  Isaac  Harman. 

The  Research  Magnificent. 

Mr.  Britling  Sees  It  Through. 

The  Soul  of  a  Bishop. 

Joan  and  Peter. 

The  Undying  Fire. 


The  following  fantastic 

The  War  of  the  Worlds. 
The  Time  Machine. 
The  Wonderful  Visit. 
The  Island  of  Dr.  Moreau. 
The  Sea  Lady. 
When  the  Sleeper  Wakes. 


and  imaginative  romances : 

The  Food  of  the  Gods. 
The  War  in  the  Air. 
The  First  Men  in  the  Moon. 
In  the  Days  of  the  Comet. 
The  World  Set  Free. 
The  Invisible  Man. 


Numerous  short  stories  collected  under  the  following  titles  • 

The  Country  of  the  Blind.  |     The  Stolen  Bacillus. 

Tales  of  Space  and  Time.  I     The  Plattner  Story. 

Twelve  Stories  and  a  Dream. 


A  series  of  books  on  social,  religious  and  political  questions: 


Anticipations  (looo). 
Mankind  in  the  Making. 
First  and  Last  Things. 
New  Worlds  for  Old. 


A  Modern  Utopia. 
The  Future  in  America. 
God  the  Invisible  King. 
The  Outline  of  History. 


And  two  little  books  about  children's  play,  called  : 
Floor  Games  and  Little  Wars. 


TALES  OF  SPACE 
AND  TIME 


BY 


H.  G.  WELLS 


r/  ^ 


MACMILLAN  AND  CO.,  LIMITED 
ST.  MARTIN'S  STREET,  LONDON 

1920 


COPYRIGHT 

Transferred  to  Macmillan  and  Co.^  Ltd.,  1903 
Reprinted  1906,  1920 


Library,  Univ.  o( 
North  Gurdina 


Contents 

PA6B 

The  Crystal  Egg       .      .      .      •  •  i 

The  Star      .      .      .      •      •      *  •  35 

A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age       «      ^  •  59 

A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  .      .  .165 

The  Man  who  could  Work  Miracles  .  325 


THE  CRYSTAL  EGG 


There  was,  until  a  year  ago,  a  little  and 
very  grimy-looking  shop  near  Seven  Dials, 
over  which,  in  weather-worn  yellow  lettering, 
the  name  of  ''C.  Cave,  Naturalist  and  Dealer  in 
Antiquities,"  was  inscribed.    The  contents  of 
its  window  were  curiously  variegated.  They 
comprised  some  elephant  tusks  and  an  imper- 
fect set  of  chessmen,  beads  and  weapons,  a  box 
of  eyes,  two  skulls  of  tigers  and  one  human, 
several  moth-eaten  stufifed  monkeys  (one  hold- 
ing a  lamp),  an  old-fashioned  cabinet,  a  fly- 
blown ostrich  egg  or  so,  some  fishing-tackle, 
and  an  extraordinarily  dirty,  empty  glass  fish- 
tank.   There  was  also,  at  the  moment  the  story 
begins,  a  mass  of  crystal,  worked  into  the  shape 
of  an  egg  and  brilliantly  polished.   And  at  that 
two  people,  who  stood  outside  the  window, 
were  looking,  one  of  them  a  tall,  thin  clergy- 
man, the  other  a  black-bearded  young  man  of 
dusky  complexion  and  unobtrusive  costume. 
The  dusky  young  man  spoke  with  eager  ges- 


2 


Time  and  Space 


ticulation,  and  seemed  anxious  for  his  com- 
panion to  purchase  the  article. 

While  they  were  there,  Mr.  Cave  came  into 
his  shop,  his  beard  still  wagging  with  the  bread 
and  butter  of  his  tea.  When  he  saw  these  men 
and  the  object  of  their  regard,  his  countenance 
fell.  He  glanced  guiltily  over  his  shoulder, 
and  softly  shut  the  door.  He  was  a  little  old 
man,  with  pale  face  and  peculiar  watery  blue 
eyes ;  his  hair  was  a  dirty  grey,  and  he  wore  a 
shabby  blue  frock-coat,  an  ancient  silk  hat,  and 
carpet  slippers  very  much  down  at  heel.  He 
remained  watching  the  two  men  as  they  talked. 
The  clergyman  went  deep  into  his  trouser 
pocket,  examined  a  handful  of  money,  and. 
showed  his  teeth  in  an  agreeable  smile.  Mr. 
Cave  seemed  still  more  depressed  when  they 
came  into  the  shop. 

The  clergyman,  without  any  ceremony, 
asked  the  price  of  the  crystal  egg.  Mr.  Cave 
glanced  nervously  towards  the  door  leading 
into  the  parlour,  and  said  five  pounds.  The 
clergyman  protested  that  the  price  was  high,  to 
his  companion  as  well  as  to  Mr.  Cave — it  was, 
indeed,  very  much  more  than  Mr.  Cave  had  in- 
tended to  ask,  when  he  had  stocked  the  article 
— and  an  attempt  at  bargaining  ensued.  Mr. 
Cave  stepped  to  the  shop-door,  and  held  it 


The  Crystal  Egg  3 


open.  "Five  pounds  is  my  price/'  he  said,  as 
though  he  wished  to  save  himself  the  trouble  of 
unprofitable  discussion.  As  he  did  so,  the  upper 
portion  of  a  woman's  face  appeared  above  the 
blind  in  the  glass  upper  panel  of  the  door  lead- 
ing into  the  parlour,  and  stared  curiously  at  the 
two  customers.  *'Five  pounds  is  my  price,"  said 
Mr.  Cave,  with  a  quiver  in  his  voice. 

The  swarthy  young  man  had  so  far  remained 
a  spectator,  watching  Cave  keenly.  Now  he 
spoke.  "Give  him  five  pounds,"  he  said.  The 
clergyman  glanced  at  him  to  see  if  he  were  in 
earnest,  and,  when  he  looked  at  Mr.  Cave 
again,  he  saw  that  the  latter's  face  was  white. 
"It's  a  lot  of  money,"  said  the  clergyman,  and, 
diving  into  his  pocket,  began  counting  his  re- 
sources. He  had  little  more  than  thirty  shil- 
lings, and  he  appealed  to  his  companion,  with 
whom  he  seemed  to  be  on  terms  of  considerable 
intimacy.  This  gave  Mr.  Cave  an  opportunity 
of  collecting  his  thoughts,  and  he  began  to  ex- 
plain in  an  agitated  manner  that  the  crystal  was 
not,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  entirely  free  for  sale. 
His  two  customers  were  naturally  surprised  at 
this,  and  inquired  why  he  had  not  thought  of 
that  before  he  began  to  bargain.  Mr.  Cave  be- 
came confused,  but  he  stuck  to  his  story,  that 
the  crystal  was  not  in  the  market  that  after- 


4 


Time  and  Spice 


noon,  that  a  probable  purchaser  of  it  had  al- 
ready appeared.  The  two,  treating  this  as  an 
attempt  to  raise  the  price  still  further,  made  as 
if  they  would  leave  the  shop.  But  at  this  point 
the  parlour  door  opened,  and  the  owner  of  the 
dark  fringe  and  the  little  eyes  appeared. 

She  was  a  coarse- featured,  corpulent  woman, 
younger  and  very  much  larger  than  Mr.  Cave; 
she  walked  heavily,  and  her  face  was  flushed. 
"That  crystal  is  for  sale,  she  said.  '*And  five 
pounds  is  a  good  enough  price  for  it.  I  can't 
think  what  you're  about.  Cave,  not  to  take  the 
gentleman's  offer !" 

Mr.  Cave,  greatly  perturbed  by  the  irrup- 
tion, looked  angrily  at  her  over  the  rims  of 
his  spectacles,  and,  without  excessive  assur- 
ance, asserted  his  right  to  manage  his  busi- 
ness in  his  own  way.  An  altercation  be- 
gan. The  two  customers  watched  the  scene 
with  interest  and  some  amusement,  occasion- 
ally assisting  Mrs.  Cave  with  suggestions.  Mr. 
Cave,  hard  driven,  persisted  in  a  confused  and 
impossible  story  of  an  enquiry  for  the  crys- 
tal that  morning,  and  his  agitation  be- 
came painful.  But  he  stuck  to  his  point 
with  extraordinary  persistence.  It  was  the 
young  Oriental  who  ended  this  curious  con- 
troversy.  He  proposed  that  they  should  call 


The  Crystal  Egg  5 


again  ia  the  course  of  two  days — so  as  to  give 
the  alleged  enquirer  a  fair  chance.  ''And  then 
we  must  insist/'  said  the  clergyman.  ''Five 
pounds."  Mrs.  Cave  took  it  on  herself  to 
apologise  for  her  husband,  explaining  that  he 
was  sometimes  "a  little  odd,"  and  as  the  two 
customers  left,  the  couple  prepared  for  a  free 
discussion  of  the  incident  in  all  its  bearings. 

Mrs.  Cave  talked  to  her  husband  with  singu- 
lar directness.  The  poor  little  man,  quivering 
with  emotion,  muddled  himself  between  his 
stories,  maintaining  on  the  one  hand  that  he 
had  another  customer  in  view,  and  on  the  other 
asserting  that  the  crystal  was  honestly  worth 
ten  guineas.  "Why  did  you  ask  five  pounds?" 
said  his  wife.  ''Do  let  me  manage  my  business 
my  own  way !"  said  Mr.  Cave. 

Mr.  Cave  had  living  with  him  a  step-daugh- 
ter and  a  step-son,  and  at  supper  that  night  the 
transaction  was  re-discussed.  None  of  them 
had  a  high  opinion  of  Mr.  Cave's  business 
methods,  and  this  action  seemed  a  culminating 
folly. 

"It's  my  opinion  he's  refused  that  crystal  be- 
fore," said  the  step-son,  a  loose-limbed  lout  of 
eighteen. 

"But  Five  Pounds  r  said  the  step-daughter. 


6  Time  and  Space 

an  argumentative  young  woman  of  six-and- 
twenty. 

Mr.  Cave's  answers  were  wretched ;  he  could 
only  mumble  weak  assertions  that  he  knew  his 
own  business  best.  They  drove  him  from  his 
half-eaten  supper  into  the  shop,  to  close  it  for 
the  night,  his  ears  aflame  and  tears  of  vexation 
behind  his  spectacles.  "Why  had  he  left  the 
crystal  in  the  window  so  long?  The  folly  of 
it That  was  the  trouble  closest  in  his  mind. 
For  a  time  he  could  see  no  way  of  evading  sale. 

After  supper  his  step-daughter  and  step-son 
smartened  themselves  up  and  went  out 
and  his  wife  retired  upstairs  to  reflect 
upon  the  business  aspects  of  the  crystal, 
over  a  little  sugar  and  lemon  and  so  forth  in 
hot  water.  Mr.  Cave  went  into  the  shop,  and 
stayed  there  until  late,  ostensibly  to  make  orna- 
mental rockeries  for  gold-fish  cases  but  really 
for  a  private  purpose  that  will  be  better  ex- 
plained later.  The  next  day  Mrs.  Cave  found 
that  the  crystal  had  been  removed  from  the 
window,  and  was  lying  behind  some  second- 
hand books  on  angling.  She  replaced  it  in  a 
conspicuous  position.  But  she  did  not  argue 
further  about  it,  as  a  nervous  headache  disin- 
clined her  from  debate.  Mr.  Cave  was  al- 
ways disinclined.   The  day  passed  disagree- 


The  Crystal  Egg  7 


ably.  Mr.  Cave  was,  if  anything,  more 
absent-minded  than  usual,  and  uncom- 
monly irritable  withal.  In  the  afternoon, 
when  his  wife  was  taking  her  customary 
sleep,  he  removed  the  crystal  from  the  window 
again. 

The  next  day  Mr.  Cave  had  to  deliver  a  con- 
signment of  dog-fish  at  one  of  the  hospital 
schools,  where  they  were  needed  for  dissection. 
In  his  absence  Mrs.  Cave's  mind  reverted  to  the 
topic  of  the  crystal,  and  the  methods  of  expen- 
diture suitable  to  a  windfall  of  five  pounds.  She 
had  already  devised  some  very  agreeable  ex- 
pedients, among  others  a  dress  of  green  silk  for 
herself  and  a  trip  to  Richmond,  when  a  jang- 
ling of  the  front  door  bell  summoned  her  into 
the  shop.  The  customer  was  an  examination 
coach  who  came  to  complain  of  the  non-deliv- 
ery of  certain  frogs  asked  for  the  previous  day. 
Mrs.  Cave  did  not  approve  of  this  particular 
branch  of  Mr.  Cave's  business,  and  the  gentle- 
man, who  had  called  in  a  somewhat  aggressive 
mood,  retired  after  a  brief  exchange  of  words 
— entirely  civil  so  far  as  he  was  concerned. 
Mrs.  Cave's  eye  then  naturally  turned  to  the 
window;  for  the  sight  of  the  crystal  was  an 
assurance  of  the  five  pounds  and  of  her  dreams. 
What  was  her  surprise  to  find  it  gone ! 


8  Time  and  Space 


She  went  to  the  place  behind  the  locker  on 
the  counter,  where  she  had  discovered  it  the 
day  before.  It  was  not  there;  and  she  imme- 
diately began  an  eager  search  about  the  shop. 

When  Mr.  Cave  returned  from  his  business 
with  the  dog-fish,  about  a  quarter  to  two  in  the 
afternoon,  he  found  the  shop  in  some  con- 
fusion, and  his  wife,  extremely  exasperated 
and  on  her  knees  behind  the  counter,  routing 
among  his  taxidermic  material.  Her  face  came 
up  hot  and  angry  over  the  counter,  as  the  jang- 
ling bell  announced  his  return,  and  she  forth- 
with accused  him  of  ^^hiding  it." 

"Hid  whatr  asked  Mr.  Cave. 

"The  crystal 

At  that  Mr.  Cave,  apparently  much  sur- 
prised, rushed  to  the  window.  "Isn't  it  here?'' 
he  said.  "Grieat  Heavens !  what  has  become  of 
it?" 

Just  then,  Mr.  Cave's  step-son  re-entered 
the  shop  from  the  inner  room — he  had  come 
home  a  minute  or  so  before  Mr.  Cave — and  he 
was  blaspheming  freely.  He  was  apprenticed  to 
a  second-hand  furniture  dealer  down  the  road, 
but  he  had  his  meals  at  home,  and  he  was 
naturally  annoyed  to  find  no  dinner  ready. 

But,  when  he  heard  of  the  loss  of  the  crystal, 
he  forgot  his  meal,  and  his  anger  was  diverted 


The  Crystal  Egg  9 


from  his  mother  to  his  step-father.  Their  first 
idea,  of  course,  was  that  he  had  hidden  it.  But 
Mr.  Cave  stoutly  denied  all  knowledge  of  its 
fate — freely  offering  his  bedabbled  affidavit  in 
the  matter — and  at  last  was  worked  up  to  the 
point  of  accusing,  first,  his  wife  and  then  his 
step-son  of  having  taken  it  with  a  view  to  a 
private  sale.  So  began  an  exceedingly  acri- 
monious and  emotional  discussion,  which 
ended  for  Mrs.  Cave  in  a  peculiar  nervous  con- 
dition midway  between  hysterics  and  amuck, 
and  caused  the  step-son  to  be  half-an-hour  late 
at  the  furniture  establishment  in  the  afternoon. 
Mr.  Cave  took  refuge  from  his  wife's  emotions 
in  the  shop. 

In  the  evening  the  matter  was  resumed,  with 
less  passion  and  in  a  judicial  spirit,  under  the 
presidency  of  the  step-daughter.  The  supper 
passed  unhappily  and  culminated  in  a  painful 
scene.  Mr.  Cave  gave  way  at  last  to  extreme 
exasperation,  and  went  out  banging  the  front 
door  violently.  The  rest  of  the  family,  having 
discussed  him  with  the  freedom  his  absence 
warranted,  hunted  the  house  from  garret  to  cel- 
lar, hoping  to  light  upon  the  crystal. 

The  next  day  the  two  customers  called 
again.  They  were  received  by  Mrs.  Cave  al- 
most in  tears.   It  transpired  that  no  one  could 


lo  Time  and  Space 

imagine  all  that  she  had  stood  from  Cave  at 
various  times  in  her  married  pilgrimage.  .  . 
.  .  She  also  gave  a  garbled  account  of  the  dis- 
appearance. The  clergyman  and  the  Oriental 
laughed  silently  at  one  another,  and  said  it  was 
very  extraordinary.  As  Mrs.  Cave  seemed 
disposed  to  give  them  the  complete  history  of 
her  life  they  made  to  leave  the  shop.  There- 
upon Mrs.  Cave,  still  clinging  to  hope,  asked 
for  the  clergyman's  address,  so  that,  if  she 
could  get  anything  out  of  Cave,  she  might  com- 
municate it.  The  address  was  duly  given,  but 
apparently  was  afterwards  mislaid.  Mrs.  Cave 
can  remember  nothing  about  it. 

In  the  evening  of  that  day,  the  Caves  seem 
to  have  exhausted  their  emotions,  and  Mr. 
Cave,  who  had  been  out  in  the  afternoon, 
supped  in  a  gloomy  isolation  that  contrasted 
pleasantly  with  the  impassioned  controversy 
of  the  previous  days.  For  some  time  matters 
were  very  badly  strained  in  the  Cave  house- 
hold, but  neither  crystal  nor  customer  reap- 
peared. 

Now,  without  mincing  the  matter,  we  must 
admit  that  Mr.  Cave  was  a  liar.  He  knew  per- 
fectly well  where  the  crystal  was.  It  was  in 
the  rooms  of  Mr.  Jacoby  Wace,  Assistant 
Demonstrator  at   St.   Catherine's  Hospital, 


The  Crystal  Egg  1 1 


Westbourne  Street  It  stood  on  the  sideboard 
partially  covered  by  a  black  velvet  cloth,  and 
beside  a  decanter  of  American  whisky.  It  is 
from  Mr.  Wace,  indeed,  that  the  particulars 
upon  which  this  narrative  is  based  were  de- 
rived. Cave  had  taken  off  the  thing  to  the  hos- 
pital hidden  in  the  dog-fish  sack,  and  there  had 
pressed  the  young  investigator  to  keep  it  for 
him.  Mr.  Wace  was  a  little  dubious  at  first. 
His  relationship  to  Cave  was  peculiar.  He  had 
a  taste  for  singular  characters,  and  he  had  more 
than  once  invited  the  old  man  to  smoke  and 
drink  in  his  rooms,  and  to  unfold  his  rather 
amusing  views  of  life  in  general  and  of  his  wife 
in  particular.  Mr.  Wace  had  encountered  Mrs. 
Cave,  too,  on  occasions  when  Mr.  Cave  was  not 
at  home  to  attend  to  him.  He  knew  the  con- 
stant interference  to  which  Cave  was  subjected, 
and  having  weighed  the  story  judicially,  he  de- 
cided to  give  the  crystal  a  refuge.  Mr.  Cave 
promised  to  explain  the  reasons  for  his  remark- 
able affection  for  the  crystal  more  fully  on  a 
later  occasion,  but  he  spoke  distinctly  of  seeing 
visions  therein.  He  called  on  Mr.  Wace  the 
same  evening. 

He  told  a  complicated  story.  The  crystal  he 
said  had  come  into  his  possession  with  other 
oddments  at  the  forced  sale  of  another  curi- 


12  Time  and  Space 


osity  dealer's  effects,  and  not  knowing  what 
its  value  might  be,  he  had  ticketed  it  at  ten 
shillings.  It  had  hung  upon  his  hands  at  that 
price  for  some  months,  and  he  was  thinking  of 
^'reducing  the  figure,"  when  he  made  a  singular 
discovery. 

At  that  time  his  health  was  very  bad — and 
it  must  be  borne  in  mind  that,  throughout  all 
this  experience,  his  physical  condition  was  one 
of  ebb — and  he  was  in  considerable  distress  by 
reason  of  the  negligence,  the  positive  ill-treat- 
ment even,  he  received  from  his  wife  and  step- 
children. His  wife  was  vain,  extravagant,  un- 
feeling, and  had  a  growing  taste  for  private 
drinking;  his  step-daughter  was  mean  and 
over-reaching;  and  his  step-son  had  conceived 
a  violent  dislike  for  him,  and  lost  no  chance  of 
showing  it.  The  requirements  of  his  business 
pressed  heavily  upon  him,  and  Mr.  Wace  does 
not  think  that  he  was  altogether  free  from  oc- 
casional intemperance.  He  had  begun  life  in  a 
comfortable  position,  he  was  a  man  of  fair  edu- 
cation, and  he  suffered,  for  weeks  at  a  stretch, 
from  melancholia  and  insomnia.  Afraid  to  dis- 
turb his  family,  he  would  slip  quietly  from  his 
wife's  side,  when  his  thoughts  became  intolera- 
ble, and  wander  about  the  house.    And  about 


The  Crystal  Egg  13 

three  o'clock  one  morning,  late  in  August, 
chance  directed  him  into  the  shop. 

The  dirty  little  place  was  impenetrably  black 
except  in  one  spot,  where  he  perceived  an  un- 
usual glow  of  light.  Approaching  this,  he  dis- 
covered it  to  be  the  crystal  egg,  which  was 
standing  on  the  corner  of  the  counter  towards 
the  window.  A  thin  ray  smote  through  a 
crack  in  the  shutters,  impinged  upon  the  ob- 
ject, and  seemed  as  it  were  to  fill  its  entire  in- 
terior. 

It  occurred  to  Mr.  Cave  that  this  was  not  in 
accordance  with  the  laws  of  optics  as  he  had 
known  them  in  his  younger  days.  He  could 
understand  the  rays  being  refracted  by  the 
crystal  and  coming  to  a  focus  in  its  interior,  but 
this  diffusion  jarred  with  his  physical  concep- 
tions. He  approached  the  crystal  nearly,  peer- 
ing into  it  and  round  it,  with  a  transient  re- 
vival of  the  scientific  curiosity  that  in  his  youth 
had  determined  his  choice  of  a  calling.  He  was 
surprised  to  find  the  light  not  steady,  but 
writhing  within  the  substance  of  the  egg,  as 
though  that  object  was  a  hollow  sphere  of  some 
luminous  vapour.  In  moving  about  to  get  dif- 
ferent points  of  view,  he  suddenly  found  that 
he  had  come  between  it  and  the  ray,  and  that 
the  crystal  none  the  less  remained  luminous. 


14 


Time  and  Space 


Greatly  astonished,  he  Hfted  it  out  of  the  Hght 
ray  and  carried  it  to  the  darkest  part  of  the 
shop.  It  remained  bright  for  some  four  or  five 
minutes,  when  it  slowly  faded  and  went  out. 
He  placed  it  in  the  thin  streak  of  daylight,  and 
its  luminousness  was  almost  immediately  re- 
stored. 

So  far,  at  least,  Mr.  Wace  was  able  to  verify 
the  remarkable  story  of  Mr.  Cave.  He  has 
himself  repeatedly  held  this  crystal  in  a  ray  of 
light  (which  had  to  be  of  a  less  diameter  than 
one  millimetre).  And  in  a  perfect  darkness, 
such  as  could  be  produced  by  velvet  wrapping, 
the  crystal  did  undoubtedly  appear  very  faintly 
phosphorescent.  It  would  seem,  however,  that 
the  luminousness  was  of  some  exceptional  sort, 
and  not  equally  visible  to  all  eyes ;  for  Mr.  Har- 
binger— whose  name  will  be  familiar  to  the 
scientific  reader  in  connection  with  the  Pasteur 
Institute — was  quite  unable  to  see  any  light 
whatever.  And  Mr.  Wace's  own  capacity  for 
its  appreciation  was  out  of  comparison  inferior 
to  that  of  Mr.  Cave's.  Even  with  Mr.  Cave 
the  power  varied  very  considerably :  his  vision 
was  most  vivid  during  states  of  extreme  weak- 
ness and  fatigue. 

Now,  from  the  outset  this  light  in  the  crystal  i 
exercised  a  curious  fascination  upon  Mr.  Cave. 


The  Crystal  Egg  15 


And  it  says  more  for  his  loneliness  of  soul  than 
a  volume  of  pathetic  writing  could  do,  that  he 
told  no  human  being  of  his  curious  observa- 
tions. He  seems  to  have  been  living  in  such  an 
atmosphere  of  petty  spite  that  to  admit  the 
existence  of  a  pleasure  would  have  been  to  risk 
the  loss  of  it.  He  found  that  as  the  dawn  ad- 
vanced, and  the  amount  of  diffused  light  in- 
creased, the  crystal  became  to  all  appearance 
non-luminous.  And  for  some  time  he  was  una- 
ble to  see  anything  in  it,  except  at  night-time, 
in  dark  corners  of  the  shop. 

But  the  use  of  an  old  velvet  cloth,  which  he 
used  as  a  background  for  a  collection  of  min- 
erals, occurred  to  him,  and  by  doubling  this, 
and  putting  it  over  his  head  and  hands,  he  was 
able  to  get  a  sight  of  the  luminous  movement 
within  the  crystal  even  in  the  day-time.  He 
was  very  cautious  lest  he  should  be  thus  dis- 
covered by  his  wife,  and  he  practised  this  oc- 
cupation only  in  the  afternoons,  while  she  was 
asleep  upstairs,  and  then  circumspectly  in  a  hol- 
low under  the  counter.  And  one  day,  turning 
the  crystal  about  in  his  hands,  he  saw  some- 
thing. It  came  and  went  like  a  flash,  but  it 
gave  him  the  impression  that  the  object  had 
for  a  moment  opened  to  bim  the  view  of  a  wide 
and  spacious  and  strange  country;  and,  turn- 


1 6  Time  and  Space 

ing  it  about,  he  did,  just  as  the  light  faded,  see 
the  same  vision  again. 

Now,  it  would  be  tedious  and  unnecessary 
to  state  all  the  phases  of  Mr.  Cave's  discovery 
from  this  point.  Suffice  that  the  effect  was 
this :  the  crystal,  being  peered  into  at  an  angle 
of  about  137  degrees  from  the  direction  of  the 
illuminating  ray,  gave  a  clear  and  consistent 
picture  of  a  wide  and  peculiar  country-side.  It 
was  not  dream-like  at  all :  it  produced  a  definite 
impression  of  reality,  and  the  better  the  light 
the  more  real  and  solid  it  seemed.  It  was  a 
moving  picture :  that  is  to  say,  certain  objects 
moved  in  it,  but  slowly  in  an  orderly  manner 
like  real  things,  and,  according  as  the  direction 
of  the  lighting  and  vision  changed,  the  picture 
changed  also.  It  must,  indeed,  have  been  like 
looking  through  an  oval  glass  at  a  view,  and 
turning  the  glass  about  to  get  at  different  as- 
pects. 

Mr.  Cave's  statements,  Mr.  Wace  assures 
me,  were  extremely  circumstantial,  and  en- 
tirely free  from  any  of  that  emotional  quality 
that  taints  hallucinatory  impressions.  But  it 
must  be  remembered  that  all  the  efforts  of  Mr. 
Wace  to  see  any  similar  clarity  in  the  faint 
opalescence  of  the  crystal  were  wholly  unsuc- 
cessful, try  as  he  would.    The  difference  in 


The  Crystal  Egg  17 


intensity  of  the  impressions  received  by  the  two 
men  was  very  great,  and  it  is  quite  conceivable 
that  what  was  a  view  to  Mr.  Cave  was  a  mere 
blurred  nebulosity  to  Mr.  Wace. 

The  view,  as  Mr.  Cave  described  it,  was  in- 
variably of  an  extensive  plain,  and  he  seemed 
always  to  be  looking  at  it  from  a  considerable 
height,  as  if  from  a  tower  or  a  mast.  To  the 
east  and  to  the  west  the  plain  was  bounded  at  a 
remote  distance  by  vast  reddish  cliffs,  which 
reminded  him  of  those  he  had  seen  in  some  pic- 
ture ;  but  what  the  picture  was  Mr.  Wace  was 
unable  to  ascertain.  These  cliffs  passed  north 
and  south — he  could  tell  the  points  of  the  com- 
pass by  the  stars  that  were  visible  of  a  night — 
receding  in  an  almost  illimitable  perspective 
and  fading  into  the  mists  of  the  distance  before 
they  met.  He  was  nearer  the  eastern  set  of 
cliffs,  on  the  occasion  of  his  first  vision  the  sun 
was  rising  over  them,  and  black  against  the 
sunlight  and  pale  against  their  shadow  ap- 
peared a  multitude  of  soaring  forms  that  Mr. 
Cave  regarded  as  birds.  A  vast  range  of  build- 
ings spread  below  him;  he  seemed  to  be  look- 
ing down  upon  them ;  and,  as  they  approached 
the  blurred  and  refracted  edge  of  the  picture, 
they  became  indistinct.  There  were  also  trees 
curious  in  shape,  and  in  colouring,  a  deep 

B 


i8 


Time  and  Space 


mossy  green  and  an  exquisite  grey,  beside  a 
wide  and  shining  canal.  And  something  great 
and  brilliantly  coloured  flew  across  the  picture. 
But  the  first  time  Mr.  Cave  saw  these  pictures 
he  saw  only  in  flashes,  his  hands  shook,  his 
head  moved,  the  vision  came  and  went,  and 
grew  foggy  and  indistinct.  And  at  first  he  had 
the  greatest  difficulty  in  finding  the  picture 
again  once  the  direction  of  it  was  lost. 

His  next  clear  vision,  which  came  about  a 
week  after  the  first,  the  interval  having  yielded 
nothing  but  tantalising  glimpses  and  some  use- 
ful experience,  showed  him  the  view  down  the 
length  of  the  valley.  The  view  was  different, 
but  he  had  a  curious  persuasion,  which  his  sub- 
sequent observations  abundantly  confirmed, 
that  he  was  regarding  this  strange  world  from 
exactly  the  same  spot,  although  he  was  looking 
in  a  different  direction.  The  long  fagade  of 
the  great  building,  whose  roof  he  had  looked 
down  upon  before,  was  now  receding  in  per- 
spective. He  recognised  the  roof.  In  the  front 
of  the  fagade  was  a  terrace  of  massive  propor- 
tions and  extraordinary  length,  and  down  the 
middle  of  the  terrace,  at  certain  intervals,  stood 
huge  but  very  graceful  masts,  bearing  small 
shiny  objects  which  reflected  the  setting  sun. 
The  import  of  these  small  objects  did  not 


The  Crystal  Egg  19 

occur  to  Mr.  Cave  until  some  time  after,  as  he 
was  describing  the  scene  to  Mr.  Wace.  The 
terrace  overhung  a  thicket  of  the  most  luxu- 
riant and  graceful  vegetation,  and  beyond  this 
was  a  wide  grassy  lawn  on  which  certain  broad 
creatures,  in  form  like  beetles  but  enormously 
larger,  reposed.  Beyond  this  again  was  a  richly 
decorated  causeway  of  pinkish  stone;  and  be- 
yond that,  and  lined  with  dense  red  weeds,  and 
passing  up  the  valley  exactly  parallel  with  the 
distant  cliflfs,  was  a  broad  and  mirror-like  ex- 
panse of  water.  The  air  seemed  full  of  squad- 
rons of  great  birds,  manoeuvring  in  stately 
curves ;  and  across  the  river  was  a  multitude  of 
splendid  buildings,  richly  coloured  and  glitter- 
ing with  metallic  tracery  and  facets,  among  a 
forest  of  moss-like  and  lichenous  trees.  And 
suddenly  something  flapped  repeatedly  across 
the  vision,  like  the  fluttering  of  a  jewelled  fan 
or  the  beating  of  a  wing,  and  a  face,  or  rather 
the  upper  part  of  a  face  with  very  large  eyes, 
came  as  it  were  close  to  his  own  and  as  if  on 
the  other  side  of  the  crystal.  Mr.  Cave  was  so 
startled  and  so  impressed  by  the  absolute  real- 
ity of  these  eyes,  that  he  drew  his  head  back 
from  the  crystal  to  look  behind  it.  He  had  be- 
come so  absorbed  in  watching  that  he  was  quite 
surprised  to  find  himself  in  the  cool  darkness  of 


20  Time  and  Space 

his  little  shop,  with  its  familiar  odour  of 
methyl,  mustiness,  and  decay.  And,  as  he 
blinked  about  him,  the  glowing  crystal  faded, 
and  went  out. 

Such  were  the  first  general  impressions  of 
Mr.  Cave.  The  story  is  curiously  direct  and 
circumstantial.  From  the  outset,  when  the  val- 
ley first  flashed  momentarily  on  his  senses,  his 
imagination  was  strangely  afifected,  and,  as  he 
began  to  appreciate  the  details  of  the  scene  he 
saw,  his  wonder  rose  to  the  point  of  a  passion. 
He  went  about  his  business  listless  and  dis- 
traught, thinking  only  of  the  time  when  he 
should  be  able  to  return  to  his  watching.  And 
then  a  few  weeks  after  his  first  sight  of  the 
valley  came  the  two  customers,  the  stress  and 
excitement  of  their  offer,  and  the  narrow  es- 
cape of  the  crystal  from  sale,  as  I  have  already 
told. 

Now,  while  the  thing  was  Mr.  Cave's  secret, 
it  remained  a  mere  wonder,  a  thing  to  creep  to 
covertly  and  peep  at,  as  a  child  might  peep 
upon  a  forbidden  garden.  But  Mr.  Wace  has, 
for  a  young  scientific  investigator,  a  particu- 
larly lucid  and  consecutive  habit  of  mind.  Di- 
rectly the  crystal  and  its  story  came  to  him,  and 
he  had  satisfied  himself,  by  seeing  the  phos- 
phorescence with  his  own  eyes,  that  there  really 


The  Crystal  Egg  21 


was  a  certain  evidence  for  Mr.  Cave's  state- 
ments, he  proceeded  to  develop  the  matter  sys- 
tematically. Mr.  Cave  was  only  too  eager  to 
come  and  feast  his  eyes  on  this  wonderland  he 
saw,  and  he  came  every  night  from  half-past 
eight  until  half-past  ten,  and  sometimes,  in  Mr. 
Wace's  absence,  during  the  day.  On  Sunday 
afternoons,  also,  he  came.  From  the  outset  Mr. 
Wace  made  copious  notes,  and  it  was  due  to  his 
scientific  method  that  the  relation  between  the 
direction  from  which  the  initiating  ray  entered 
the  crystal  and  the  orientation  of  the  picture 
were  proved.  And,  by  covering  the  crystal  in  a 
box  perforated  only  with  a  small  aperture  to 
admit  the  exciting  ray,  and  by  substituting 
black  holland  for  his  buff  blinds,  he  greatly  im- 
proved the  conditions  of  the  observations;  so 
that  in  a  little  while  they  were  able  to  survey 
the  valley  in  any  direction  they  desired. 

So  having  cleared  the  way,  we  may  give  a 
brief  account  of  this  visionary  world  within  the 
crystal.  The  things  were  in  all  cases  seen  by 
Mr.  Cave,  and  the  method  of  working  was  in- 
variably for  him  to  watch  the  crystal  and  re- 
port what  he  saw,  while  Mr.  Wace  (who  as  a 
science  student  had  learnt  the  trick  of  writing 
in  the  dark)  wrote  a  brief  note  of  his  report. 
When  the  crystal  faded,  it  was  put  into  its  box 


22 


Time  and  Space 


in  the  proper  position  and  the  electric  Hght 
turned  on.  Mr.  Wace  asked  questions,  and 
suggested  observations  to  clear  up  difficult 
points.  Nothing,  indeed,  could  have  been  less 
visionary  and  more  matter-of-fact. 

The  attention  of  Mr.  Cave  had  been  speedily 
directed  to  the  bird-like  creatures  he  had  seen 
so  abundantly  present  in  each  of  his  earlier 
visions.  His  first  impression  was  soon  cor- 
rected, and  he  considered  for  a  time  that  they 
might  represent  a  diurnal  species  of  bat.  Then 
he  thought,  grotesquely  enough,  that  they 
might  be  cherubs.  Their  heads  were  round, 
and  curiously  human,  and  it  was  the  eyes  of 
one  of  them  that  had  so  startled  him  on  his  sec- 
ond observation.  They  had  broad,  silvery 
wings,  not  feathered,  but  glistening  almost  as 
brilliantly  as  new-killed  fish  and  with  the  same 
subtle  play  of  colour,  and  these  wings  were  not 
built  on  the  plan  of  bird-wing  or  bat,  Mr.  Wace 
learned,  but  supported  by  curved  ribs  radiating 
from  the  body.  (A  sort  of  butterfly  wing  with 
curved  ribs  seems  best  to  express  their  appear- 
ance.) The  body  was  small,  but  fitted  with 
two  bunches  of  prehensile  organs,  like  long 
tentacles,  immediately  under  the  mouth.  In- 
credible as  it  appeared  to  Mr.  Wace,  the  per- 
suasion at  last  became  irresistible,  that  it  was 


The  Crystal  Egg  ±^ 


these  creatures  which  owned  the  great  quasi- 
human  buildings  and  the  magnificent  garden 
that  made  the  broad  valley  so  splendid.  And 
Mr.  Cave  perceived  that  the  buildings,  with 
other  peculiarities,  had  no  doors,  but  that  the 
great  circular  windows,  which  opened  freely, 
gave  the  creatures  egress  and  entrance.  They 
would  alight  upon  their  tentacles,  fold  their 
wings  to  a  smallness  almost  rod-like,  and  hop 
into  the  interior.  But  among  them  was  a  mul- 
titude of  smaller-winged  creatures,  like  great 
dragon-flies  and  moths  and  flying  beetles,  and 
across  the  greensward  brilliantly-coloured 
gigantic  ground-beetles  crawled  lazily  to  and 
fro.  Moreover,  on  the  causeways  and  terraces, 
large-headed  creatures  similar  to  the  greater 
winged  flies,  but  wingless,  were  visible,  hop- 
ping busily  upon  their  hand-like  tangle  of  ten- 
tacles. 

Allusion  has  already  been  made  to  the  glit- 
tering objects  upon  masts  that  stood  upon  the 
terrace  of  the  nearer  building.  It  dawned  upon 
Mr.  Cave,  after  regarding  one  of  these  masts 
very  fixedly  on  one  particularly  vivid  day,  that 
the  glittering  object  there  was  a  crystal  exactly  \ 
like  that  into  which  he  peered.  And  a  still 
more  careful  scrutiny  convinced  him  that  each 


24  Time  and  Space 


one  in  a  vista  of  nearly  twenty  carried  a  similar 
object. 

Occasionally  one  of  the  large  flying  creatures 
would  flutter  up  to  one,  and,  folding  its  wings 
and  coiling  a  number  of  its  tentacles  about  the 
mast,  would  regard  the  crystal  fixedly  for  a 
space, — sometimes  for  as  long  as  fifteen  min- 
utes. And  a  series  of  observations,  made  at 
the  suggestion  of  Mr.  Wace,  convinced  both 
watchers  that,  so  far  as  this  visionary  world 
was  concerned,  the  crystal  into  which  they 
peered  actually  stood  at  the  summit  of  the  end- 
most  mast  on  the  terrace,  and  that  on  one  oc- 
casion at  least  one  of  these  inhabitants  of  this 
other  world  had  looked  into  Mr.  Cave's  face 
while  he  was  making  these  observations. 

So  much  for  the  essential  facts  of  this  very 
singular  story.  Unless  we  dismiss  it  all  as  the 
ingenious  fabrication  of  Mr.  Wace,  we  have 
to  believe  one  of  two  things:  either  that 
Mr.  Cave's  crystal  was  in  two  worlds  at 
once,  and  that,  while  it  was  carried  about  in 
one,  it  remained  stationary  in  the  other,  which 
seems  altogether  absurd;  or  else  that  it  had 
some  peculiar  relation  of  sympathy  with  an- 
other and  exactly  similar  crystal  in  this  other 
world,  so  that  what  was  seen  in  the  interior  of 
the  one  in  this  world  was,  under  suitable  con- 


The  Crystal  Egg  25 


ditions,  visible  to  an  observer  in  the  corre- 
sponding  crystal  in  the  other  world;  and  vice 
versa.  At  present,  indeed,  we  do  not  know  o£ 
any  way  in  which  two  crystals  could  so  come 
en  rapport,  but  nowadays  we  know  enough  to 
understand  that  the  thing  is  not  altogether  im- 
possible. This  view  of  the  crystals  as  en  rap- 
port was  the  supposition  that  occurred  to  Mr. 
Wace,  and  to  me  at  least  it  seems  extremely 

plausible  

And  where  was  this  other  world?  On  this, 
also,  the  alert  intelligence  of  Mr.  Wace  speed- 
ily threw  light.  After  sunset,  the  sky  dark- 
ened rapidly — there  was  a  very  brief  twilight 
interval  indeed — and  the  stars  shone  out.  They 
were  recognisably  the  same  as  those  we  see,  ar- 
ranged in  the  same  constellations.  Mr.  Cave 
recognised  the  Bear,  the  Pleiades,  Aldebaran, 
and  Sirius:  so  that  the  other  world  must  be 
somewhere  in  the  solar  system,  and,  at  the  ut- 
most, only  a  few  hundreds  of  millions  of  miles 
from  our  own.  Following  up  this  clue,  Mr. 
Wace  learned  that  the  midnight  sky  was  a 
darker  blue  even  than  our  midwinter  sky,  and 
that  the  sun  seemed  a  little  smaller.  And  there 
were  two  small  moons!  'like  our  moon  but 
smaller,  and  quite  dif¥erently  marked"  one  of 
which  moved  so  rapidly  that  its  motion  was 


Time  and  Space 


clearly  visible  as  one  regarded  it.  These  moons 
were  never  high  in  the  sky,  but  vanished  as 
they  rose:  that  is,  every  time  they  revolved 
they  were  eclipsed  because  they  were  so  near 
their  primary  planet.  And  all  this  answers 
quite  completely,  although  Mr.  Cave  did  not 
1  know  it,  to  what  must  be  the  condition  of 
things  on  Mars. 

Indeed,  it  seems  an  exceedingly  plausible  v 
conclusion  that  peering  into  this  crystal  Mr. 
Cave  did  actually  see  the  planet  Mars  and  its 
inhabitants.  And,  if  that  be  the  case,  then  the 
evening  star  that  shone  so  brilliantly  in  the  sky 
of  that  distant  vision,  was  neither  more  nor 
less  than  our  own  familiar  earth. 

For  a  time  the  Martians— if  they  were  Mar- 
tians— do  not  seem  to  have  known  of  Mr. 
Cave's  inspection.  Once  or  twice  one  would 
come  to  peer,  and  go  away  very  shortly  to  some 
other  mast,  as  though  the  vision  was  unsatis- 
factory. During  this  time  Mr.  Cave  was  able 
to  watch  the  proceedings  of  these  winged  peo- 
ple without  being  disturbed  by  their  attentions, 
and,  although  his  report  is  necessarily  vague 
and  fragmentary,  it  is  nevertheless  very  sug- 
gestive. Imagine  the  impression  of  humanity 
a  Martian  observer  would  get  who,  after  a  dif- 
ficult process  of  preparation  and  with  consid- 


The  Crystal  Egg  27 


erable  fatigue  to  the  eyes,  was  able  to  peer  at 
London  from  the  steeple  of  St.  Martin's 
Church  for  stretches,  at  longest,  of  four  min- 
utes at  a  time.  Mr.  Cave  was  unable  to  ascer- 
tain if  the  winged  Martians  were  the  same  as 
the  Martians  who  hopped  about  the  causeways 
and  terraces,  and  if  the  latter  could  put  on 
wings  at  will.  He  several  times  saw  certain 
clumsy  bipeds,  dimly  suggestive  of  apes,  white 
and  partially  translucent,  feeding  among  cer- 
tain of  the  lichenous  trees,  and  once  some  of 
these  fled  before  one  of  the  hopping,  round- 
headed  Martians.  The  latter  caught  one  in  its 
tentacles,  and  then  the  picture  faded  suddenly 
and  left  Mr.  Cave  most  tantalisingly  in  the 
dark.  On  another  occasion  a  vast  thing,  that 
Mr.  Cave  thought  at  first  was  some  gigantic 
insect,  appeared  advancing  along  the  causeway 
beside  the  canal  with  extraordinary  rapidity. 
As  this  drew  nearer  Mr.  Cave  perceived  that  it 
was  a  mechanism  of  shining  metals  and  of  ex- 
traordinary complexity.  And  then,  when  he 
looked  again,  it  had  passed  out  of  sight. 

After  a  time  Mr.  Wace  aspired  to  attract  the 
attention  of  the  Martians,  and  the  next  time 
that  the  strange  eyes  of  one  of  them  appeared 
close  to  the  crystal  Mr.  Cave  cried  out  and 
sprang  away,  and  they  immediately  turned  on 


28 


Time  and  Space 


the  light  and  began  to  gesticulate  in  a  manner 
suggestive  of  signalling.  But  when  at  last  Mr. 
Cave  examined  the  crystal  again  the  Martian 
had  departed. 

Thus  far  these  observations  had  progressed 
in  early  November,  and  then  Mr.  Cave,  feeling 
that  the  suspicions  of  his  family  about  the  crys- 
tal were  allayed,  began  to  take  it  to  and  fro 
with  him  in  order  that,  as  occasion  arose  in  the 
daytime  or  night,  he  might  comfort  himself 
with  what  was  fast  becoming  the  most  real 
thing  in  his  existence. 

In  December  Mr.  Wace's  work  in  connection 
with  a  forthcoming  examination  became  heavy, 
the  sittings  were  reluctantly  suspended  for  a 
week,  and  for  ten  or  eleven  days — he  is  not 
quite  sure  which — he  saw  nothing  of  Cave.  He 
then  grew  anxious  to  resume  these  investiga- 
tions, and,  the  stress  of  his  seasonal  labours  be- 
ing abated,  he  went  down  to  Seven  Dials.  At 
the  corner  he  noticed  a  shutter  before  a  bird 
fancier's  window,  and  then  another  at  a  cob- 
bler's.   Mr.  Cave's  shop  was  closed. 

He  rapped  and  the  door  was  opened  by  the 
step-son  in  black.  He  at  once  called  Mrs. 
Cave,  who  was,  Mr.  Wace  could  not  but  ob- 
serve, in  cheap  but  ample  widow's  weeds  of  the 
most  imposing  pattern.    Without  any  very 


The  Crystal  Egg  29 


great  surprise  Mr.  Wace  learnt  that  Cave  was 
dead  and  already  buried.  She  was  in  tears,  and 
her  voice  was  a  little  thick.  She  had  just  re- 
turned from  Highgate.  Her  mind  seemed  oc- 
cupied with  her  own  prospects  and  the  honour- 
able details  of  the  obsequies,  but  Mr.  Wace  was 
at  last  able  to  learn  the  particulars  of  Cave's 
death.  He  had  been  found  dead  in  his  shop  in 
the  early  morning,  the  day  after  his  last  visit 
to  Mr.  Wace,  and  the  crystal  had  been  clasped 
in  his  stone-cold  hands.  His  face  was  smiling, 
said  Mrs.  Cave,  and  the  velvet  cloth  from  the 
minerals  lay  on  the  floor  at  his  feet.  He  must 
have  been  dead  five  or  six  hours  when  he  was 
found. 

This  came  as  a  great  shock  to  Wace,  and  he 
began  to  reproach  himself  bitterly  for  having 
neglected  the  plain  symptoms  of  the  old  man's 
ill-health.  But  his  chief  thought  was  of  the 
crystal.  He  approached  that  topic  in  a  gingerly 
manner,  because  he  knew  Mrs.  Cave's  pecu- 
liarities. He  was  dumbfoundered  to  learn  that 
it  was  sold. 

Mrs.  Cave's  first  impulse,  directly  Cave's 
body  had  been  taken  upstairs,  had  been  to  write 
to  the  mad  clergyman  who  had  offered  five 
pounds  for  the  crystal,  informing  him  of  its  re- 
covery; but  after  a  violent  hunt  in  which  her 


30  Time  and  Space 

daughter  joined  her,  they  were  convinced  of 
the  loss  of  his  address.  As  they  were  without 
the  means  required  to  mourn  and  bury  Cave  in 
the  elaborate  style  the  dignity  of  an  old  Seven 
Dials  inhabitant  demands,  they  had  appealed 
to  a  friendly  fellow-tradesman  in  Great  Port- 
land Street.  He  had  very  kindly  taken  over  a 
portion  of  the  stock  at  a  valuation.  The  valua- 
tion was  his  own  and  the  crystal  egg  was  in- 
cluded in  one  of  the  lots.  Mr.  Wace,  after  a 
few  suitable  consolatory  observations,  a  little 
ofif-handedly  proffered  perhaps,  hurried  at 
once  to  Great  Portland  Street.  But  there  he 
learned  that  the  crystal  egg  had  already  been 
sold  to  a  tall,  dark  man  in  grey.  And  there  the 
material  facts  in  this  curious,  and  to  me  at  least 
very  suggestive,  story  come  abruptly  to  an  end. 
The  Great  Portland  Street  dealer  did  not  know 
who  the  tall  dark  man  in  grey  was,  nor  had  he 
observed  him  with  sufficient  attention  to  des- 
cribe him  minutely.  He  did  not  even  know 
which  way  this  person  had  gone  after  leaving 
the  shop.  For  a  time  Mr.  Wace  remained  in 
the  shop,  trying  the  dealer's  patience  with 
hopeless  questions,  venting  his  own  exaspera- 
tion. And  at  last,  realising  abruptly  that  the 
whole  thing  had  passed  out  of  his  hands,  had 
vanished  like  a  vision  of  the  night,  he  returned 


L 


The  Crystal  Egg  31 

to  his  own  rooms,  a  little  astonished  to  find  the 
notes  he  had  made  still  tangible  and  visible 
upon  his  untidy  table. 

His  annoyance  and  disappointment  were 
naturally  very  great.  He  made  a  second  call 
(equally  ineffectual)  upon  the  Great  Portland 
Street  dealer,  and  he  resorted  to  advertisements 
in  such  periodicals  as  were  likely  to  come  into 
the  hands  of  a  bric-a-brac  collector.  He  also 
wrote  letters  to  The  Daily  Chronicle  and  Na- 
ture, but  both  those  periodicals,  suspecting  a 
hoax,  asked  him  to  reconsider  his  action  be- 
fore they  printed,  and  he  was  advised  that  such 
a  strange  story,  unfortunately  so  bare  of  sup- 
porting evidence,  might  imperil  his  reputation 
as  an  investigator.  Moreover,  the  calls  of  his 
proper  work  were  urgent.  So  that  after  a 
month  or  so,  save  for  an  occasional  reminder  to 
certain  dealers,  he  had  reluctantly  to  abandon 
the  quest  for  the  crystal  egg,  and  from  that 
day  to  this  it  remains  undiscovered.  Occasion- 
ally, however,  he  tells  me,  and  I  can  quite  be- 
lieve him,  he  has  bursts  of  zeal,  in  which  he 
abandons  his  more  urgent  occupation  and  re- 
sumes the  search. 

Whether  or  not  it  will  remain  lost  for  ever, 
with  the  material  and  origin  of  it,  are  things 
equally  speculative  at  the  present  time.    If  the 


32 


Time  and  Space 


present  purchaser  is  a  collector,  one  would  have 
expected  the  enquiries  of  Mr.  Wace  to  have 
reached  him  through  the  dealers.  He  has  been 
able  to  discover  Mr.  Cave's  clergyman  and 
''Orientar' — no  other  than  the  Rev.  James 
Parker  and  the  young  Prince  of  Bosso-Kuni  in 
Java.  I  am  obliged  to  them  for  certain  par- 
ticulars. The  object  of  the  Prince  was  simply 
curiosity — and  extravagance.  He  was  so  eager 
to  buy,  because  Cave  was  so  oddly  reluctant  to 
sell.  It  is  just  as  possible  that  the  buyer  in  the 
second  instance  was  simply  a  casual  purchaser 
and  not  a  collector  at  all,  and  the  crystal  egg, 
for  all  I  know,  may  at  the  present  moment  be 
within  a  mile  of  me,  decorating  a  drawing- 
room  or  serving  as  a  paper-weight — its  re- 
markable functions  all  unknown.  Indeed,  it  is 
partly  with  the  idea  of  such  a  possibility  that  I 
have  thrown  this  narrative  into  a  form  that 
will  give  it  a  chance  of  being  read  by  the  ordi- 
nary consumer  of  fiction. 

My  own  ideas  in  the  matter  are  practically 
identical  with  those  of  Mr.  Wace.  I  believe 
the  crystal  on  the  mast  in  Mars  and  the  crystal 
egg  of  Mr.  Cave's  to  be  in  some  physical,  but 
at  present  quite  inexplicable,  way  en  rapport, 
and  we  both  believe  further  that  the  terrestrial 
crystal  must  have  been — ^possibly  at  some  re- 


The  Crystal  Egg 


mote  date — sent  hither  from  that  planet,  in  or- 
der to  give  the  Martians  a  near  view  of  our  af- 
fairs. Possibly  the  fellows  to  the  crystals  in 
the  other  masts  are  also  on  our  globe.  No 
theory  of  hallucination  suffices  for  the  facts. 


c 


^  1 


The  Star 


\ 

V 


\ 


THE  STAR 


It  was  on  the  first  day  of  the  new  year  that 
the  announcement  was  made,  almost  simultane- 
ously from  three  observatories,  that  the  mo- 
tion of  the  planet  Neptune,  the  outermost  of  all 
the  planets  that  wheel  about  the  sun,  had  be- 
come very  erratic.  Ogilvy  had  already  called 
attention  to  a  suspected  retardation  in  its 
velocity  in  December.  Such  a  piece  of  news 
was  scarcely  calculated  to  interest  a  world  the 
greater  portion  of  whose  inhabitants  were  un- 
aware  of  the  existence  of  the  planet  Neptune, 
nor  outside  the  astronomical  profession  did  the 
subsequent  discovery  of  a  faint  remote  speck 
of  light  in  the  region  of  the  perturbed  planet 
cause  any  very  great  excitement.  Scientific 
people,  however,  found  the  intelligence  re- 
markable enough,  even  before  it  became  known 
that  the  new  body  was  rapidly  growing  larger 
and  brighter,  that  its  motion  was  quite  differ- 
ent from  the  orderly  progress  of  the  planets, 
and  that  the  deflection  of  Neptune  and  its 

37 


38 


Time  and  Space 


satellite  was  becoming  now  of  an  unprece- 
dented kind. 

Few  people  without  a  training  in  science  can 
realise  the  huge  isolation  of  the  solar  system. 
The  sun  with  its  specks  of  planets,  its  dust-^ 
planetoids,  and  its  impalpable  comets,  swims 
in  a  vacant  immensity  that  almost  defeats  the 
imagination.  Beyond  the  orbit  of  Neptune 
there  is  space,  vacant  so  far  as  human  observa- 
tion has  penetrated,  without  warmth  or  light  or 
sound,  blank  emptiness,  for  twenty  million 
times  a  million  miles.  That  is  the  smallest  es- 
timate of  the  distance  to  be  traversed  before  the 
very  nearest  of  the  stars  is  attained.  And,  sav- 
ing a  few  comets  more  unsubstantial  than  the 
thinnest  flame,  no  matter  had  ever  to  human 
knowledge  crossed  this  gulf  of  space,  until 
early  in  the  twentieth  century  this  strange 
wanderer  appeared.  A  vast  mass  of  matter  it 
was,  bulky,  heavy,  rushing  without  warning  out 
of  the  black  mystery  of  the  sky  into  the  radiance 
of  the  sun.  By  the  second  day  it  was  clearly 
visible  to  any  decent  instrument,  as  a  speck 
with  a  barely  sensible  diameter,  in  the  constel- 
lation Leo  near  Regulus.  In  a  little  while  an 
opera  glass  could  attain  it. 

On  the  third  day  of  the  new  year  the  news- 
paper readers  of  two  hemispheres  were  made 


The  Star 


39 


aware  for  the  first  time  of  the  real  importance 
of  this  unusual  apparition  in  the  heavens. 
Planetary  Collision/'  one  London  paper  headed 
the  news,  and  proclaimed  Duchaine's  opinion 
that  this  strange  new  planet  would  probably 
collide  with  Neptune.  The  leader  writers  en- 
larged upon  the  topic.  So  that  in  most  of  the 
capitals  of  the  world,  on  January  3rd,  there  was 
an  expectation,  however  vague  of  some  immi- 
nent phenomenon  in  the  sky ;  and  as  the  night 
followed  the  sunset  round  the  globe,  thousands 
of  men  turned  their  eyes  skyward  to  see — the 
old  familiar  stars  just  as  they  had  always  been. 

Until  it  was  dawn  in  London  and  Pollux 
setting  and  the  stars  overhead  grown  pale. 
The  Winter's  dawn  it  was,  a  sickly  filtering  ac- 
cumulation of  daylight,  and  the  light  of  gas 
and  candles  shone  yellow  in  the  windows  to 
show  where  people  were  astir.  But  the  yawn- 
ing policeman  saw  the  thing,  the  busy  crowds 
in  the  markets  stopped  agape,  workmen  going 
to  their  work  betimes,  milkmen,  the  drivers  of 
news-carts,  dissipation  going  home  jaded  and 
pale,  homeless  wanderers,  sentinels  on  their 
beats,  and  in  the  country,  labourers  trudging 
afield,  poachers  slinking  home,  all  over  the 
dusky  quickening  country  it  could  be  seen — 
and  out  at  sea  by  seamen  watching  for  the  day 


40  Time  and  Space 

— a  great  white  star,  come  suddenly  into  the 
westward  sky ! 

Brighter  it  was  than  any  star  in  our  skies; 
brighter  than  the  evening  star  at  its  brightest. 
It  still  glowed  out  white  and  large,  no  mere 
twinkling  spot  of  light,  but  a  small  round  clear 
shining  disc,  an  hour  after  the  day  had  come. 
And  where  science  has  not  reached,  men  stared 
and  feared,  telling  one  another  of  the  wars  and 
pestilences  that  are  foreshadowed  by  these  fiery 
signs  in  the  Heavens.  Sturdy  Boers,  dusky 
Hottentots,  Gold  Coast  negroes.  Frenchmen, 
Spaniards,  Portuguese,  stood  in  the  warmth  of 
the  sunrise  watching  the  setting  of  this  strange 
new  star. 

And  in  a  hundred  observatories  there  had 
been  suppressed  excitement,  rising  almost  to 
shouting  pitch,  as  the  two  remote  bodies  had 
rushed  together,  and  a  hurrying  to  and  fro,  to 
gather  photographic  apparatus  and  spectro- 
scope, and  this  appliance  and  that,  to  record 
this  novel  astonishing  sight,  the  destruction  of 
a  world.  For  it  was  a  world,  a  sister  planet  of 
our  earth,  far  greater  than  our  earth  indeed, 
that  had  so  suddenly  flashed  into  flaming 
death.  Neptune  it  was,  had  been  struck,  fairly 
and  squarely,  by  the  strange  planet  from  outer 
space  and  the  heat  of  the  concussion  had  incon- 


The  Star 


41 


tinently  turned  two  solid  globes  into  one  vast 
mass  of  incandescence.  Round  the  world  that 
day,  two  hours  before  the  dawn,  went  the 
pallid  great  white  star,  fading  only  as  it  sank 
westward  and  the  sun  mounted  above  it. 
Everywhere  men  marvelled  at  it,  but  of  all 
those  who  saw  it  none  could  have  marvelled 
more  than  those  sailors,  habitual  watchers  of 
the  stars,  who  far  away  at  sea  had  heard  noth- 
ing of  its  advent  and  saw  it  now  rise  like  a 
pigmy  moon  and  climb  zenithward  and  hang 
overhead  and  sink  westward  with  the  passing 
of  the  night. 

And  when  next  it  rose  over  Europe  every- 
where were  crowds  of  watchers  on  hilly  slopes, 
on  house-roofs,  in  open  spaces,  staring  east- 
ward for  the  rising  of  the  great  new  star.  It 
rose  with  a  white  glow  in  front  of  it,  like  the 
glare  of  a  white  fire,  and  those  who  had  seen  it 
come  into  existence  the  night  before  cried  out 
at  the  sight  of  it.  "It  is  larger,"  they  cried. 
*'It  is  brighter!"  And,  indeed  the  moon  a 
quarter  full  and  sinking  in  the  west  was  in  its 
apparent  size  beyond  comparison,  but  scarcely 
in  all  its  breadth  had  it  as  much  brightness  now 
as  the  little  circle  of  the  strange  new  star. 

"It  is  brighter!"  cried  the  people  clustering 
in  the  streets.   But  in  the  dim  observatories  the 


42 


Time  and  Space 


watchers  held  their  breath  and  peered  at  one 
another.   ''It  is  nearer/'  they  said.  ''Nearer!" 

And  voice  after  voice  repeated,  *'It  is 
nearer/'  and  the  cHcking  telegraph  took  that 
up,  and  it  trembled  along  telephone  wires,  and 
in  a  thousand  cities  grimy  compositors  fingered 
the  type.  ''It  is  nearer."  Men  writing  in  of- 
fices, struck  with  a  strange  realisation,  flung 
down  their  pens,  men  talking  in  a  thousand 
places  suddenly  came  upon  a  grotesque  possi- 
bility in  those  words,  ''It  is  nearer."  It  hur- 
ried along  awakening  streets,  it  was  shouted 
down  the  frost-stilled  ways  of  quiet  villages, 
men  who  had  read  these  things  from  the  throb- 
bing tape  stood  in  yellow-lit  doorways  shout- 
ing the  news  to  the  passers-by.  "It  is  nearer." 
Pretty  women,  flushed  and  glittering,  heard 
the  news  told  jestingly  between  the  dances,  and 
feigned  an  intelligent  interest  they  did  not  feel. 
"Nearer !  Indeed.  How  curious !  How  very, 
very  clever  people  must  be  to  find  out  things 
like  that !" 

Lonely  tramps  faring  through  the  wintry 
night  murmured  those  words  to  comfort  them- 
selves— looking  skyward.  "It  has  need  to  be 
nearer,  for  the  night's  as  cold  as  charity.  Don't 
seem  much  warmth  from  it  if  it  is  nearer,  all 
the  same." 


The  Star 


43 


"What  is  a  new  star  to  me  ?"  cried  the  weep- 
ing woman  kneehng  beside  her  dead. 

The  schoolboy,  rising  early  for  his  examina- 
tion work,  puzzled  it  out  for  himself — with  the 
great  white  star,  shining  broad  and  bright 
through  the  frost-flowers  of  his  window. 
''Centrifugal,  centripetal,''  he  said,  with  his 
chin  on  his  fist.  ''Stop  a  planet  in  its  flight,  rob 
it  of  its  centrifugal  force,  what  then  ?  Centrip- 
etal has  it,  and  down  it  falls  into  the  sun !  And 
this— 

"Do  we  come  in  the  way?  I  wonder — 
The  light  of  that  day  went  the  way  of  its 
brethren,  and  with  the  later  watches  of  the 
frosty  darkness  rose  the  strange  star  again. 
And  it  was  now  so  bright  that  the  waxing 
moon  seemed  but  a  pale  yellow  ghost  of  itself, 
hanging  huge  in  the  sunset.  In  a  South  Afri- 
can city  a  great  man  had  married,  and  the 
streets  were  alight  to  welcome  his  return  with 
his  bride.  "Even  the  skies  have  illuminated," 
said  the  flatterer.  Under  Capricorn,  two  negro 
lovers,  daring  the  wild  beasts  and  evil  spirits, 
for  love  of  one  another,  crouched  together  in  a 
cane  brake  where  the  fire-flies  hovered.  "That 
is  6ur  star,"  they  whispered,  and  felt  strangely 
comforted  by  the  sweet  brilliance  of  its  light. 
The  master  mathematician  sat  in  his  private 


44  Time  and  Space 


room  and  pushed  the  papers  from  him.  His 
calculations  were  already  finished.  In  a  small 
white  phial  there  still  remained  a  little  of  the 
drug  that  had  kept  him  awake  and  active  for 
four  long  nights.  Each  day,  serene,  explicit, 
patient  as  ever,  he  had  given  his  lecture  to  his 
students,  and  then  had  come  back  at  once  to 
this  momentous  calculation.  His  face  was 
grave,  a  little  drawn  and  hectic  from  his 
drugged  activity.  For  some  time  he  seemed 
lost  in  thought.  Then  he  went  to  the  window, 
and  the  blind  went  up  with  a  click.  Half  way 
up  the  sky,  over  the  clustering  roofs,  chimneys 
and  steeples  of  the  city,  hung  the  star. 

He  looked  at  it  as  one  might  look  into  the 
eyes  of  a  brave  enemy.  "You  may  kill  me,"  he 
said  after  a  silence.  "But  I  can  hold  you — and 
all  the  universe  for  that  matter — in  the  grip  of 
this  little  brain.  I  would  not  change.  Even 
now." 

He  looked  at  the  little  phial.  "There  will  be 
no  need  of  sleep  again,"  he  said.  The  next  day 
at  noon,  punctual  to  the  minute,  he  entered  his 
lecture  theatre,  put  his  hat  on  the  end  of  the 
table  as  his  habit  was,  and  carefully  selected  a 
large  piece  of  chalk.  It  was  a  joke  among  his 
students  that  he  could  not  lecture  without  that 
piece  of  chalk  to  fumble  in  his  fingers,  and  once 


The  Star  45 


he  had  been  stricken  to  impotence  by  their  hid- 
ing his  supply.  He  came  and  looked  under  his 
grey  eyebrows  at  the  rising  tiers  of  young 
fresh  faces,  and  spoke  with  his  accustomed 
studied  commonness  of  phrasing.  ''Circum- 
stances have  arisen — circumstances  beyond  my 
control,"  he  said  and  paused,  ''which  will  de- 
bar me  from  completing  the  course  I  had  de- 
signed. It  would  seem,  gentlemen,  if  I  may 
put  the  thing  clearly  and  briefly,  that — Man 
has  lived  in  vain." 

The  students  glanced  at  one  another.  Had 
they  heard  aright?  Mad?  Raised  eyebrows 
and  grinning  lips  there  were,  but  one  or  two 
faces  remained  intent  upon  his  calm  grey- 
fringed  face.  "It  will  be  interesting,"  he  was 
saying,  "to  devote  this  morning  to  an  exposi- 
tion, so  far  as  I  can  make  it  clear  to  you,  of  the 
calculations  that  have  led  me  to  this  conclusion. 
Let  us  assume — " 

He  turned  towards  the  blackboard,  medita- 
ting a  diagram  in  the  way  that  was  usual  to 
him.  "What  was  that  about  'lived  in  vain  ?'  " 
whispered  one  student  to  another.  "Listen," 
said  the  other,  nodding  towards  the  lecturer. 

And  presently  they  began  to  understand. 

That  night  the  star  rose  later,  for  its  proper 
eastward  motion  had  carried  it  some  way 


46  Time  and  Space 


across  Leo  towards  Virgo,  and  its  brightness 
was  so  great  that  the  sky  became  a  luminous 
blue  as  it  rose,  and  every  star  was  hidden  in  its 
turn,  save  only  Jupiter  near  the  zenith,  Capella, 
Aldebaran,  Sirius  and  the  pointers  of  the  Bear. 
It  was  very  white  and  beautiful.  In  many 
parts  of  the  world  that  night  a  pallid  halo  en- 
circled it  about.  It  was  perceptibly  larger;  in 
the  clear  refractive  sky  of  the  tropics  it  seemed 
as  if  it  were  nearly  a  quarter  the  size  of  the 
moon.  The  frost  was  still  on  the  ground  in 
England,  but  the  world  was  as  brightly  lit  as 
if  it  were  midsummer  moonlight.  One  could 
see  to  read  quite  ordinary  print  by  that  cold 
clear  light,  and  in  the  cities  the  lamps  burnt 
yellow  and  wan. 

And  everywhere  the  world  was  awake  that 
night,  and  throughout  Christendom  a  sombre 
murmur  hung  in  the  keen  air  over  the  country 
side  like  the  belling  of  bees  in  the  heather,  and 
this  murmurous  tumult  grew  to  a  clangour  in 
the  cities.  It  was  the  tolling  of  the  bells  in  a 
million  belfry  towers  and  steeples,  summoning 
the  people  to  sleep  no  more,  to  sin  no  more,  but 
to  gather  in  their  churches  and  pray.  And 
overhead,  growing  larger  and  brighter,  as  the 
earth  rolled  on  its  way  and  the  night  passed^ 
rose  the  dazzling  star. 


The  Star 


47 


And  the  streets  and  houses  were  alight  in  all 
the  cities,  the  shipyards  glared,  and  whatever 
roads  led  to  high  country  were  lit  and  crowded 
all  night  long.  And  in  all  the  seas  about  the 
civilised  lands,  ships  with  throbbing  engines, 
and  ships  with  bellying  sails,  crowded  with 
men  and  living  creatures,  were  standing  out  to 
ocean  and  the  north.  For  already  the  warning 
of  the  master  mathematician  had  been  tele- 
graphed all  over  the  world,  and  translated  into 
a  hundred  tongues.  The  new  planet  and  Nep- 
tune, locked  in  a  fiery  embrace,  were  whirling 
headlong,  ever  faster  and  faster  towards  the 
sun.  Already  every  second  this  blazing  mass 
flew  a  hundred  miles,  and  every  second  its  ter- 
rific velocity  increased.  As  it  flew  now,  in- 
deed, it  must  pass  a  hundred  million  of  miles 
wide  of  the  earth  and  scarcely  affect  it.  But 
near  its  destined  path,  as  yet  only  slightly  per- 
turbed, spun  the  mighty  planet  Jupiter  and  his 
moons  sweeping  splendid  round  the  sun. 
Every  moment  now  the  attraction  between  the 
fiery  star  and  the  greatest  of  the  planets  grew 
stronger.  And  the  result  of  that  attraction? 
Inevitably  Jupiter  would  be  deflected  from  its 
orbit  into  an  elliptical  path,  and  the  burning 
star,  swung  by  his  attraction  wide  of  its  sun- 
ward rush,  would  ^'describe  a  curved  path"  and 


48 


Time  and  Space 


perhaps  collide  with,  and  certainly  pass  very 
close  to,  our  earth.  ''Earthquakes,  volcanic 
outbreaks,  cyclones,  sea  waves,  floods,  and  a 
steady  rise  in  temperature  to  I  know  not  what 
limit" — so  prophesied  the  master  mathema- 
tician. 

And  overhead,  to  carry  out  his  words,  lonely 
and  cold  and  livid,  blazed  the  star  of  the  com- 
ing doom. 

To  many  who  stared  at  it  that  night  until 
their  eyes  ached,  it  seemed  that  it  was  visibly 
approaching.  And  that  night,  too,  the  weather 
changed,  and  the  frost  that  had  gripped  all 
Central  Europe  and  France  and  England  soft- 
ened towards  a  thaw. 

But  you  must  not  imagine  because  I  have 
spoken  of  people  praying  through  the  night 
and  people  going  aboard  ships  and  people  flee- 
ing towards  mountainous  country  that  the 
whole  world  was  already  in  a  terror  because  of 
the  star.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  use  and  wont 
still  ruled  the  world,  and  save  for  the  talk  of 
idle  moments  and  the  splendour  of  the  night, 
nine  human  beings  out  of  ten  were  still  busy  at 
their  common  occupations.  In  all  the  cities  the 
shops,  save  one  here  and  there,  opened  and 
closed  at  their  proper  hours,  the  doctor  and  the 
undertaker  plied  their  trades,  the  workers  gath- 


The  Star 


49 


ered  in  the  factories,  soldiers  drilled,  scholars 
studied,  lovers  sought  one  another,  thieves 
lurked  and  fled,  politicians  planned  their 
schemes.  The  presses  of  the  newspapers  roared 
through  the  nights,  and  many  a  priest  of  this 
church  and  that  would  not  open  his  holy  build- 
ing to  further  what  he  considered  a  foolish 
panic.  The  newspapers  insisted  on  the  lesson 
of  the  year  looo — for  then,  too,  people  had  an- 
ticipated the  end.  The  star  was  no  star 
— mere  gas — a  comet;  and  were  it  a  star 
it  could  not  possibly  strike  the  earth.  There 
was  no  precedent  for  such  a  thing.  Com- 
mon sense  was  sturdy  everywhere,  scorn- 
ful, jesting,  a  little  inclined  to  persecute 
the  obdurate  fearful.  That  night,  at  seven- 
fifteen  by  Greenwich  time,  the  star  would 
be  at  its  nearest  to  Jupiter.  Then  the  world 
would  see  the  turn  things  would  take.  The 
master  mathematician's  grim  warnings  were 
treated  by  many  as  so  much  mere  elaborate  self- 
advertisement.  Common  sense  at  last,  a  little 
heated  by  argument,  signified  its  unalterable 
convictions  by  going  to  bed.  So,  too,  barbar- 
ism and  savagery,  already  tired  of  the  novelty, 
went  about  their  nightly  business,  and  save  for 
a  howling  dog  here  and  there,  the  beast  world 
left  the  star  unheeded. 

D 


Time  and  Space 


And  yet,  when  at  last  the  watchers  in  the 
European  States  saw  the  star  rise,  an  hour  later 
it  is  true,  but  no  larger  than  it  had  been  the 
night  before,  there  were  still  plenty  awake  to 
laugh  at  the  master  mathematician — to  take 
the  danger  as  if  it  had  passed. 

But  hereafter  the  laughter  ceased.  The  star 
grew — it  grew  with  a  terrible  steadiness  hour 
after  hour,  a  little  larger  each  hour,  a  little 
nearer  the  midnight  zenith,  and  brighter  and 
brighter,  until  it  had  turned  night  into  a  second 
day.  Had  it  come  straight  to  the  earth  instead 
of  in  a  curved  path,  had  it  lost  no  velocity  to 
Jupiter,  it  must  have  leapt  the  intervening  gulf 
in  a  day,  but  as  it  was  it  took  five  days  alto- 
gether to  come  by  our  planet.  The  next  night 
it  had  become  a  third  the  size  of  the  moon  be- 
fore it  set  to  English  eyes,  and  the  thaw  was 
assured.  It  rose  over  America  near  the  size  of 
the  moon,  but  blinding  white  to  look  at,  and 
hot;  and  a  breath  of  hot  wind  blew  now  with 
its  rising  and  gathering  strength,  and  in  Vir- 
ginia, and  Brazil,  and  down  the  St.  Lawrence 
valley,  it  shone  intermittently  through  a  driv- 
ing reek  of  thunder-clouds,  flickering  violet 
lightning,  and  hail  unprecedented.  In  Mani- 
toba was  a  thaw  and  devastating  floods.  And 
upon  all  the  mountains  of  the  earth  the  snow 


The  Star 


51 


and  ice  began  to  melt  that  night,  and  all  the 
rivers  coming  out  of  high  country  flowed  thick 
and  turbid,  and  soon — in  their  upper  reaches — 
with  swirling  trees  and  the  bodies  of  beasts 
and  men.  They  rose  steadily,  steadily  in  the 
ghostly  brilliance,  and  came  trickling  over  their 
banks  at  last,  behind  the  flying  population  of 
their  valleys. 

And  along  the  coast  of  Argentina  and  up 
the  South  Atlantic  the  tides  were  higher  than 
had  ever  been  in  the  memory  of  man,  and  the 
storms  drove  the  waters  in  many  cases  scores 
of  miles  inland,  drowning  whole  cities.  And 
so  great  grew  the  heat  during  the  night  that 
the  rising  of  the  sun  was  like  the  coming  of  a 
shadow.  The  earthquakes  began  and  grew  un- 
til all  down  America  from  the  Arctic  Circle  to 
Cape  Horn,  hillsides  were  sliding,  fissures  were 
opening,  and  houses  and  walls  crumbling  to 
destruction.  The  whole  side  of  Cotopaxi 
slipped  out  in  one  vast  convulsion,  and  a  tumult 
of  lava  poured  out  so  high  and  broad  and  swift 
and  liquid  that  in  one  day  it  reached  the  sea. 

So  the  star,  with  the  wan  moon  in  its  wake, 
marched  across  the  Pacific,  trailed  the  thunder- 
storms like  the  hem  of  a  robe,  and  the  growing 
tidal  wave  that  toiled  behind  it,  frothing  and 
eager,  poured  over  island  and  island  and  swept 


52 


Time  and  Space 


them  clear  of  men.  Until  that  wave  came  at 
last — in  a  blinding  light  and  with  the  breath 
of  a  furnace,  swift  and  terrible  it  came — a  wall 
of  water,  fifty  feet  high,  roaring  hungrily, 
upon  the  long  coasts  of  Asia,  and  swept  inland 
across  the  plains  of  China.  For  a  space  the 
star,  hotter  now  and  larger  and  brighter  than 
the  sun  in  its  strength,  showed  with  pitiless 
brilliance  the  wide  and  populous  country; 
towns  and  villages  with  their  pagodas  and 
trees,  roads,  wide  cultivated  fields,  millions  of 
sleepless  people  staring  in  helpless  terror  at 
the  incandescent  sky ;  and  then,  low  and  grow- 
ing, came  the  murmur  of  the  flood.  And  thus 
it  was  with  millions  of  men  that  night — a  flight 
nowhither,  with  limbs  heavy  with  heat  and 
breath  fierce  and  scant,  and  the  flood  like  a  wall 
swift  and  white  behind.   And  then  death. 

China  was  lit  glowing  white,  but  over  Japan 
and  Java  and  all  the  islands  of  Eastern  Asia  the 
great  star  was  a  ball  of  dull  red  fire  because  of 
the  steam  and  smoke  and  ashes  the  volcanoes 
were  spouting  forth  to  salute  its  coming. 
Above  was  the  lava,  hot  gases  and  ash, 
and  below  the  seething  floods,  and  the  whole 
earth  swayed  and  rumbled  with  the  earthquake 
shocks.  Soon  the  immemorial  snows  of  Thibet 
and  the  Himalaya  were  melting  and  pouring 


The  Star 


53 


down  by  ten  million  deepening  converging 
channels  upon  the  plains  of  Burmah  and  Hin- 
dostan.  The  tangled  summits  of  the  Indian 
jungles  were  aflame  in  a  thousand  places,  and 
below  the  hurrying  waters  around  the  stems 
were  dark  objects  that  still  struggled  feebly 
and  reflected  the  blood-red  tongues  of  fire.  And 
in  a  rudderless  confusion  a  multitude  of  men 
and  women  fled  down  the  broad  river-ways  to 
that  one  last  hope  of  men — the  open  sea. 

Larger  grew  the  star,  and  larger,  hotter,  and 
brighter  with  a  terrible  swiftness  now.  The 
tropical  ocean  had  lost  its  phosphorescence,  and 
the  whirling  steam  rose  in  ghostly  wreaths 
from  the  black  waves  that  plunged  incessantly, 
speckled  with  storm-tossed  ships. 

And  then  came  a  wonder.  It  seemed  to  those 
who  in  Europe  watched  for  the  rising  of  the 
star  that  the  world  must  have  ceased  its  rota- 
tion. In  a  thousand  open  spaces  of  down  and 
upland  the  people  who  had  fled  thither  from 
the  floods  and  the  falling  houses  and  sliding 
slopes  of  hill  watched  for  that  rising  in  vain. 
Hour  followed  hour  through  a  terrible  sus- 
pense, and  the  star  rose  not.  Once  again  men 
set  their  eyes  upon  the  old  constellations  they 
had  counted  lost  to  them  forever.  In  England 
it  was  hot  and  clear  overhead,  though  the 


54 


Time  and  Space 


ground  quivered  perpetually,  but  in  the  tropics, 
Sirius  and  Capella  and  Aldebaran  showed 
through  a  veil  of  steam.  And  when  at  last  the 
great  star  rose  near  ten  hours  late,  the  sun  rose 
close  upon  it,  and  in  the  centre  of  its  white 
heart  was  a  disc  of  black. 

Over  Asia  it  was  the  star  had  begun  to  fall 
behind  the  movement  of  the  sky,  and  then  sud- 
denly, as  it  hung  over  India,  its  light  had  been 
veiled.  All  the  plain  of  India  from  the  mouth 
of  the  Indus  to  the  mouths  of  the  Ganges  was 
a  shallow  waste  of  shining  water  that  night, 
out  of  which  rose  temples  and  palaces,  mounds 
and  hills,  black  with  people.  Every  minaret 
was  a  clustering  mass  of  people,  who  fell  one 
by  one  into  the  turbid  waters,  as  heat  and  ter- 
ror overcame  them.  The  whole  land  seemed 
a-wailing,  and  suddenly  there  swept  a  shadow 
across  that  furnace  of  despair,  and  a  breath  of 
cold  wind,  and  a  gathering  of  clouds,  out  of 
the  cooling  air.  Men  looking  up,  near  blinded, 
at  the  star,  saw  that  a  black  disc  was  creeping 
across  the  light.  It  was  the  moon,  coming  be- 
tween the  star  and  the  earth.  And  even  as  men 
cried  to  God  at  this  respite,  out  of  the  East 
with  a  strange  inexplicable  swiftness  sprang 
the  sun.  And  then  star,  sun  and  moon  rushed 
together  across  the  heavens. 


The  Star 


55, 


So  it  was  that  presently,  to  the  European 
watchers,  star  and  sun  rose  close  upon  each 
other,  drove  headlong  for  a  space  and  then 
slower,  and  at  last  came  to  rest,  star  and  sun 
merged  into  one  glare  of  flame  at  the  zenith  of 
the  sky.  The  moon  no  longer  eclipsed  the  star 
but  was  lost  to  sight  in  the  brilliance  of  the  sky. 
And  though  those  who  were  still  alive  regarded 
it  for  the  most  part  with  that  dull  stupidity  that 
hunger,  fatigue,  heat  and  despair  engender, 
there  were  still  men  who  could  perceive  the 
meaning  of  these  signs.  Star  and  earth  had 
been  at  their  nearest,  had  swung  about  one  an- 
other, and  the  star  had  passed.  Already  it  was 
receding,  swifter  and  swifter,  in  the  last  stage 
of  its  headlong  journey  downward  into  the 
sun. 

And  then  the  clouds  gathered,  blotting  out 
the  vision  of  the  sky,  the  thunder  and  lightning 
wove  a  garment  round  the  world ;  all  over  the 
earth  was  such  a  downpour  of  rain  as  men  had 
never  before  seen,  and  where  the  volcanoes 
flared  red  against  the  cloud  canopy  there  de- 
scended torrents  of  mud.  Everywhere  the 
waters  were  pouring  off  the  land,  leaving  mud- 
silted  ruins,  and  the  earth  littered  like  a  storm- 
worn  beach  with  all  that  had  floated,  and  the 
dead  bodies  of  the  men  and  brutes,  its  children. 


56 


Time  and  Space 


For  days  the  water  streamed  off  the  land, 
sweeping  away  soil  and  trees  and  houses  in  the 
way,  and  piling  huge  dykes  and  scooping  out 
Titanic  gullies  over  the  country  side.  Those 
were  the  days  of  darkness  that  followed  the 
star  and  the  heat.  All  through  them,  and  for 
many  weeks  and  months,  the  earthquakes  con- 
tinued. 

But  the  star  had  passed,  and  men,  hunger- 
driven  and  gathering  courage  only  slowly, 
might  creep  back  to  their  ruined  cities,  buried 
granaries,  and  sodden  fields.  Such  few  ships 
as  had  escaped  the  storms  of  that  time  came 
stunned  and  shattered  and  sounding  their  way 
cautiously  through  the  new  marks  and  shoals 
of  once  familiar  ports.  And  as  the  storms  sub- 
sided men  perceived  that  everywhere  the  days 
were  hotter  than  of  yore,  and  the  sun  larger, 
and  the  moon,  shrunk  to  a  third  of  its  former 
size,  took  now  fourscore  days  between  its  new 
and  new. 

But  of  the  new  brotherhood  that  grew  pres- 
ently among  men,  of  the  saving  of  laws  and 
books  and  machines,  of  the  strange  change  that 
had  come  over  Iceland  and  Greenland  and  the 
shores  of  Baffin's  Bay,  so  that  the  sailors  com- 
ing there  presently  found  them  green  and  gra- 
cious, and  could  scarce  believe  their  eyes,  this 


The  Star       ^  57 

story  does  not  tell.  Nor  of  the  movement  of 
mankind  now  that  the  earth  was  hotter,  north- 
ward and  southward  towards  the  poles  of  the 
earth.  It  concerns  itself  only  with  the  coming 
and  the  passing  of  the  Star. 

The  Martian  astronomers — for  there  are  as- 
tronomers on  Mars,  although  they  are  very 
different  beings  from  men — were  naturally 
profoundly  interested  by  these  things.  They 
saw  them  from  their  own  standpoint  of 
course.  ''Considering  the  mass  and  temperature 
of  the  missile  that  was  flung  through  our  solar 
system  into  the  sun,"  one  wrote,  ''it  is  aston- 
ishing what  a  little  damage  the  earth,  which 
it  missed  so  narrowly,  has  sustained.  All  the 
familiar  continental  markings  and  the  masses 
of  the  seas  remain  intact,  and  indeed  the  only 
difference  seems  to  be  a  shrinkage  of  the  white 
discoloration  (supposed  to  be  frozen  water) 
round  either  pole."  Which  only  shows  how 
small  the  vastest  of  human  catastrophes  may 
seem,  at  a  distance  of  a  few  million  miles. 


] 


A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STONE  AGE 


I.  UGH-LOMI  AND  UYA 

This  story  is  of  a  time  beyond  the  memory 
of  man,  before  the  beginning  of  history,  a  time 
when  one  might  have  walked  dryshod  from 
France  (as  we  call  it  now)  to  England,  and 
when  a  broad  and  sluggish  Thames  flowed 
through  its  marshes  to  meet  its  father  Rhine, 
flowing  through  a  wide  and  level  country  that 
is  under  water  in  these  latter  days,  and  which 
we  know  by  the  name  of  the  North  Sea.  In 
that  remote  age  the  valley  which  runs  along  the 
foot  of  the  Downs  did  not  exist,  and  the  south 
of  Surrey  was  a  range  of  hills,  fir-clad  on  the 
middle  slopes,  and  snow-capped  for  the  better 
part  of  the  year.  The  cores  of  its  summits  still 
remain  as  Leith  Hill,  and  Pitch  Hill,  and  Hind- 
head.  On  the  lower  slopes  of  the  range,  below 
the  grassy  spaces  where  the  wild  horses  grazed, 
were  forests  of  yew  and  sweet-chestnut  and 
elm,  and  the  thickets  and  dark  places  hid  the 

6i 


62 


Time  and  Space 


grizzly  bear  and  the  hyaena,  and  the  grey  apes 
clambered  through  the  branches.  And  still 
lower  amidst  the  woodland  and  marsh  and 
open  grass  along  the  Wey  did  this  little  drama 
play  itself  out  to  the  end  that  I  have  to  tell. 
Fifty  thousand  years  ago  it  was,  fifty  thousand 
years — if  the  reckoning  of  geologists  is  correct. 

And  in  those  days  the  spring-time  was  as 
joyful  as  it  is  now,  and  sent  the  blood  coursing 
in  just  the  same  fashion.  The  afternoon  sky 
was  blue  with  piled  white  clouds  sailing 
through  it,  and  the  southwest  wind  came  like  a 
soft  caress.  The  new-come  swallows  drove  to 
and  fro.  The  reaches  of  the  river  were  spangled 
with  white  ranunculus,  the  marshy  places  were 
starred  with  lady's-smock  and  lit  with  marsh- 
mallow  wherever  the  regiments  of  the  sedges 
lowered  their  swords,  and  the  northward  mov- 
ing hippopotami,  shiny  black  monsters,  sport- 
ing clumsily,  came  floundering  and  blundering 
through  it  all,  rejoicing  dimly  and  possessed 
with  one  clear  idea,  to  splash  the  river  muddy. 

Up  the  river  and  well  in  sight  of  the  hip- 
popotami, a  number  of  little  buff-coloured  ani- 
mals dabbled  in  the  water.  There  was  no  fear, 
no  rivalry,  and  no  enmity  between  them  and 
the  hippopotami.  As  the  great  bulks  came 
crashing  through  the  reeds  and  smashed  the 


A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age  63 


mirror  of  the  water  into  silvery  splashes,  these 
little  creatures  shouted  and  gesticulated  with 
glee.  It  was  the  surest  sign  of  high  spring. 
^^Boloo !"  they  cried.  ^^Baayah.  Boloo!"  They 
were  the  children  of  the  men  folk,  the  smoke  of 
whose  encampment  rose  from  the  knoll  at  the 
river's  bend.  Wild-eyed  youngsters  they  were, 
with  matted  hair  and  little  broad-nosed  impish 
faces,  covered  (as  some  children  are  covered 
even  nowadays)  with  a  delicate  down  of  hair. 
They  were  narrow  in  the  loins  and  long  in  the 
arms.  And  their  ears  had  no  lobes,  and  had  lit- 
tle pointed  tips,  a  thing  that  still,  in  rare  in- 
stances, survives.  Stark-naked  vivid  little  gip- 
sies, as  active  as  monkeys  and  as  full  of  chatter, 
though  a  little  wanting  in  words. 

Their  elders  were  hidden  from  the  wallow- 
ing hippopotami  by  the  crest  of  the  knoll.  The 
human  squatting-place  was  a  trampled  area 
among  the  dead  brown  fronds  of  Royal  Fern, 
through  which  the  crosiers  of  this  year's 
growth  were  unrolling  to  the  light  and 
warmth.  The  fire  was  a  smouldering  heap  of 
char,  light  grey  and  black,  replenished  by  the 
old  women  from  time  to  time  with  brown 
leaves.  Most  of  the  men  were  asleep — they 
slept  sitting  with  their  foreheads  on  their  knees. 
They  had  killed  that  morning  a  good  quarry. 


64 


Time  and  Space 


enough  for  all,  a  deer  that  had  been  wounded 
by  hunting  dogs;  so  that  there  had  been  no 
quarrelling  among  them,  and  some  of  the 
women  were  still  gnawing  the  bones  that  lay- 
scattered  about.  Others  were  making  a  heap 
of  leaves  and  sticks  to  feed  Brother  Fire  when 
the  darkness  came  again,  that  he  might  grow 
strong  and  tall  therewith,  and  guard  them 
against  the  beasts.  And  two  were  piling  flints 
that  they  brought,  an  armful  at  a  time,  from 
the  bend  of  the  river  where  the  children  were  at 
play. 

None  of  these  buff-skinned  savages  were 
clothed,  but  some  wore  about  their  hips  rude 
girdles  of  adder-skin  or  crackling  undressed 
hide,  from  which  depended  little  bags,  not 
made,  but  torn  from  the  paws  of  beasts,  and 
carrying  the  rudely-dressed  flints  that  were 
men's  chief  weapons  and  tools.  And  one 
woman,  the  mate  of  Uya  the  Cunning  Man, 
wore  a  wonderful  necklace  of  perforated  fos- 
sils— that  others  had  worn  before  her.  Beside 
some  of  the  sleeping  men  lay  the  big  antlers  of 
the  elk,  with  the  tines  chipped  to  sharp  edges, 
and  long  sticks,  hacked  at  the  ends  with  flints 
into  sharp  points.  There  was  little  else  save 
these  things  and  the  smouldering  fire  to  mark 
these  human  beings  off  from  the  wild  animals 


A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age  65 

that  ranged  the  country.  But  Uya  the  Cun- 
ning did  not  sleep,  but  sat  with  a  bone  in  his 
hand  and  scraped  busily  thereon  with  a  flint,  a 
thing  no  animal  would  do.  He  was  the  oldest 
man  in  the  tribe,  beetle-browed,  prognathous, 
lank-armed;  he  had  a  beard  and  his  cheeks 
were  hairy,  and  his  chest  and  arms  were  black 
with  thick  hair.  And  by  virtue  both  of  his 
strength  and  cunning  he  was  master  of  the 
tribe,  and  his  share  was  always  the  most  and 
the  best. 

Eudena  had  hidden  herself  among  the  alders, 
because  she  was  afraid  of  Uya.  She  was  still  a 
girl,  and  her  eyes  were  bright  and  her  smile 
pleasant  to  see.  He  had  given  her  a  piece  of  the 
liver,  a  man's  piece,  and  a  wonderful  treat  for 
a  girl  to  get ;  but  as  she  took  it  the  other  woman 
with  the  necklace  had  looked  at  her,  an  evil 
glance,  and  Ugh-lomi  had  made  a  noise  in  his 
throat.  At  that,  Uya  had  looked  at  him  long 
and  steadfastly,  and  Ugh-lomi's  face  had  fallen. 
And  then  Uya  had  looked  at  her.  She  was 
frightened  and  she  had  stolen  away,  while  the 
feeding  was  still  going  on,  and  Uya  was  busy 
with  the  marrow  of  a  bone.  Afterwards  he  had 
wandered  about  as  if  looking  for  her.  And  now 
she  crouched  among  the  alders,  wondering 
mightily  what  Uya  might  be  doing  with  the 

E 


66 


Time  and  Space 


flint  and  the  bone.  And  Ugh-lomi  was  not  to 
be  seen. 

Presently  a  squirrel  came  leaping  through 
the  alders,  and  she  lay  so  quiet  the  little  man 
was  within  six  feet  of  her  before  he  saw  her. 
Whereupon  he  dashed  up  a  stem  in  a  hurry  and 
began  to  chatter  and  scold  her.  "What  are  you 
doing  here/'  he  asked,  ''away  from  the  other 
men  beasts?"  'Teace,''  said  Eudena,  but  he 
only  chattered  more,  and  then  she  began  to 
break  ofif  the  little  black  cones  to  throw  at  him. 
He  dodged  and  defied  her,  and  she  grew  ex- 
cited and  rose  up  to  throw  better,  and  then  she 
saw  Uya  coming  down  the  knoll.  He  had  seen 
the  movement  of  her  pale  arm  amidst  the 
thicket — he  was  very  keen-eyed. 

At  that  she  forgot  the  squirrel  and  set  off 
through  the  alders  and  reeds  as  fast  as  she 
could  go.  She  did  not  care  where  she  went  so 
long  as  she  escaped  Uya.  She  splashed  nearly 
knee-deep  through  a  swampy  place,  and  saw  in 
front  of  her  a  slope  of  ferns — growing  more 
slender  and  green  as  they  passed  up  out  of 
the  light  into  the  shade  of  the  young  chestnuts. 
She  was  soon  amidst  the  threes — she  was 
very  fleet  of  foot,  and  she  ran  on  and  on  until 
the  forest  was  old  and  the  vales  great,  and  the 
vines  about  their  stems  where  the  light  came 


A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age  67 


were  thick  as  young  trees,  and  the  ropes  of  ivy 
stout  and  tight.  On  she  went,  and  she  doubled 
and  doubled  again,  and  then  at  last  lay  down 
amidst  some  ferns  in  a  hollow  place  near  a 
thicket,  and  listened  with  her  heart  beating  in 
her  ears.  / 

She  heard  footsteps  presently  rustling 
among  the  dead  leaves,  far  of¥,  and  they  died 
away  and  everything  was  still  again,  except  the 
scandalising  of  the  midges — for  the  evening 
was  drawing  on — and  the  incessant  whisper  of 
the  leaves.  She  laughed  silently  to  think  the 
cunning  Uya  should  go  by  her.  She  was  not 
frightened.  Sometimes,  playing  with  the  other 
girls  and  lads,  she  had  fled  into  the  wood, 
though  never  so  far  as  this.  It  was  pleasant  to 
be  hidden  and  alone. 

She  lay  a  long  time  there,  glad  of  her  escape, 
and  then  she  sat  up  listening. 

It  was  a  rapid  pattering  growing  louder  and 
coming  towards  her,  and  in  a  little  while  she 
could  hear  grunting  noises  and  the  snapping  of 
twigs.  It  was  a  drove  of  lean  grisly  wild 
swine.  She  turned  about  her,  for  a  boar  is  an 
ill  fellow  to  pass  too  closely,  on  account  of  the 
sideway  slash  of  his  tusks,  and  she  made  of¥ 
slantingly  through  the  trees.  But  the  patter 
came  nearer,  they  were  not  feeding  as  they 


68 


Time  and  Space 


wandered,  but  going  fast — or  else  they  would 
not  overtake  her — and  she  caught  the  limb  of  a 
tree,  swung  on  to  it,  and  ran  up  the  stem  with 
something  of  the  agility  of  a  monkey. 

Down  below  the  sharp  bristling  backs  of  the 
swine  were  already  passing  when  she  looked. 
And  she  knew  the  short,  sharp  grunts  they 
made  meant  fear.  What  were  they  afraid  of? 
A  man?  They  were  in  a  great  hurry  for  just  a 
man. 

And  then,  so  suddenly  it  made  her  grip  on 
the  branch  tighten  involuntarily,  a  fawn  started 
in  the  brake  and  rushed  after  the  swine.  Some- 
thing else  went  by,  low  and  grey,  with  a  long 
body;  she  did  not  know  what  it  was,  indeed 
she  saw  it  only  momentarily  through  the  inter- 
stices of  the  young  leaves ;  and  then  there  came 
a  pause. 

She  remained  stiff  and  expectant,  as  rigid 
almost  as  though  she  was  a  part  of  the  tree  she 
clung  to,  peering  down. 

Then,  far  away  among  the  trees,  clear  for  a 
moment,  then  hidden,  then  visible  knee-deep 
in  ferns,  then  gone  again,  ran  a  man.  She 
knew  it  was  young  Ugh-lomi  by  the  fair  colour 
of  his  hair,  and  there  was  red  upon  his  face. 
Somehow  his  frantic  flight  and  that  scarlet 
mark  made  her  feel  sick.  And  then  nearer,  run- 


A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age  69 

ning  heavily  and  breathing  hard,  came  another 
man.  At  first  she  could  not  see,  and  then  she 
saw,  foreshortened  and  clear  to  her,  Uya,  run- 
ning with  great  strides  and  his  eyes  staring. 
He  was  not  going  after  Ugh-lomi.  His  face  was 
white.  It  was  Uya — afraid!  He  passed,  and 
was  still  loud  hearing,  when  something  else, 
something  large  and  with  grizzled  fur,  swing- 
ing along  with  soft  swift  strides,  came  rushing 
in  pursuit  of  him. 

Eudena  suddenly  became  rigid,  ceased  to 
breathe,  her  clutch  convulsive,  and  her  eyes 
starting. 

She  had  never  seen  the  thing  before,  she  did 
not  even  see  him  clearly  now,  but  she  knew 
at  once  it  was  the  Terror  of  the  Woodshade. 
His  name  was  a  legend,  the  children  would 
frighten  one  another,  frighten  even  themselves 
with  his  name,  and  run  screaming  to  the  squat- 
ting-place.  No  man  had  ever  killed  any  of  his 
kind.  Even  the  mighty  mammoth  feared  his 
anger.  It  was  the  grizzly  bear,  the  lord  of  the 
world  as  the  world  went  then. 

As  he  ran  he  made  a  continuous  growling 
grumble.  ''Men  in  my  very  lair !  Fighting  and 
blood.  At  the  very  mouth  of  my  lair.  Men, 
men,  men.  Fighting  and  blood."  For  he  was 
the  lord  of  the  wood  and  of  the  caves. 


70 


Time  and  Space 


Long  after  he  had  passed  she  remained,  a 
girl  of  stone,  staring  down  through  the 
branches.  All  her  power  of  action  had  gone 
from  her.  She  gripped  by  instinct  with  hands 
and  knees  and  feet.  It  was  some  time  before 
she  could  think,  and  then  only  one  thing  was 
clear  in  her  mind,  that  the  Terror  was  between 
her  and  the  tribe — that  it  would  be  impossible 
to  descend. 

Presently  when  her  fear  was  a  little  abated 
she  clambered  into  a  more  comfortable  position, 
where  a  great  branch  forked.  The  trees  rose 
about  her,  so  that  she  could  see  nothing  of 
Brother  Fire,  who  is  black  by  day.  Birds  began 
to  stir,  and  things  that  had  gone  into  hiding  for 
fear  of  her  movements  crept  out.    .    .  . 

After  a  time  the  taller  branches  flamed  out  at 
the  touch  of  the  sunset.  High  overhead  the 
rooks,  who  were  wiser  than  men,  went  cawing 
home  to  their  squatting-places  among  the  elms. 
Looking  down,  things  were  clearer  and  darker. 
Eudena  thought  of  going  back  to  the  squatting- 
place ;  she  let  herself  down  some  way,  and  then 
the  fear  of  the  Terror  of  the  Woodshade  came 
again.  While  she  hesitated  a  rabbit  squealed 
dismally,  and  she  dared  not  descend  farther. 

The  shadows  gathered,  and  the  deeps  of  the 
forest  began  stirring.  Eudena  went  up  the  tree 


A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age  ^\ 

again  to  be  nearer  the  light.  Down  below  the 
shadows  came  out  of  their  hiding-places  and 
walked  abroad.  Overhead  the  blue  deepened. 
A  dreadful  stillness  came,  and  then  the  leaves 
began  whispering. 

Eudena  shivered  and  thought  of  Brother 
Fire. 

The  shadows  now  were  gathering  in  the 
trees,  they  sat  on  the  branches  and  watched  her. 
Branches  and  leaves  were  turned  to  ominous, 
quiet  black  shapes  that  would  spring  on  her  if 
she  stirred.  Then  the  white  owl,  flitting  si- 
lently, came  ghostly  through  the  shades, 
Darker  grew  the  world  and  darker,  until  the 
leaves  and  twigs  against  the  sky  were  black, 
and  the  ground  was  hidden. 

She  remained  there  all  night,  an  age-long 
vigil,  straining  her  ears  for  the  things  that 
went  on  below  in  the  darkness,  and  keeping 
motionless  lest  some  stealthy  beast  should  dis- 
cover her.  Man  in  those  days  was  never  alone 
in  the  dark,  save  for  such  rare  accidents  as  this. 
Age  after  age  he  had  learnt  the  lesson  of  its 
terror — a  lesson  we  poor  children  of  his  have 
nowadays  painfully  to  unlearn.  Eudena, 
though  in  age  a  woman,  was  in  heart  like  a  lit- 
tle child.  She  kept  as  still,  poor  little  animal,  as 
a  hare  before  it  is  started. 


72 


Time  and  Space 


The  stars  gathered  and  watched  her — her 
one  grain  of  comfort.  In  one  bright  one  she 
fancied  there  was  something  hke  Ugh-lomi. 
Then  she  fancied  it  zvas  Ugh-lomi.  And  near 
him,  red  and  duller,  was  Uya,  and  as  the  night 
passed  Ugh-lomi  fled  before  him  up  the  sky. 

She  tried  to  see  Brother  Fire,  who  guarded 
the  squatting-place  from  beasts,  but  he  was  not 
in  sight.  And  far  away  she  heard  the  mam- 
moths trumpeting  as  they  went  down  to  the 
drinking-place,  and  once  some  huge  bulk  with 
heavy  paces  hurried  along,  making  a  noise  like 
a  calf,  but  what  it  was  she  could  not  see.  But 
she  thought  from  the  voice  it  was  Yaaa  the 
rhinoceros,  who  stabs  with  his  nose,  goes  al- 
ways alone,  and  rages  without  cause. 

At  last  the  little  stars  began  to  hide,  and  then 
the  larger  ones.  It  was  like  all  the  animals 
vanishing  before  the  Terror.  The  Sun  was 
coming,  lord  of  the  sky,  as  the  grizzly  was  lord 
of  the  forest.  Eudena  wondered  what  would 
happen  if  one  star  stayed  behind.  And  then 
the  sky  paled  to  the  dawn. 

When  the  daylight  came  the  fear  of  lurking 
things  passed,  and  she  could  descend.  She  was 
stiff,  but  not  so  stiff  as  you  would  have  been, 
dear  young  lady  (by  virtue  of  your  upbring- 
ing), and  as  she  had  not  been  trained  to  eat  at 


A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age  73 

least  once  in  three  hours,  but  instead  had  often 
fasted  three  days,  she  did  not  feel  uncomforta- 
bly hungry.  She  crept  down  the  tree  very  cau- 
tiously, and  went  her  way  stealthily  through  the 
wood,  and  not  a  squirrel  sprang  or  deer  started 
but  the  terror  of  the  grizzly  bear  froze  her  mar- 
row. 

Her  desire  was  now  to  find  her  people  again. 
Her  dread  of  Uya  the  Cunning  was  consumed 
by  a  greater  dread  of  loneliness.  But  she  had 
lost  her  direction.  She  had  run  heedlessly 
overnight,  and  she  could  not  tell  whether  the 
squatting-place  was  sunward  or  where  it  lay* 
Ever  and  again  she  stopped  and  listened,  and 
at  last,  very  far  away,  she  heard  a  measured 
chinking.  It  was  so  faint  even  in  the  morning 
stillness  that  she  could  tell  it  must  be  far  away. 
But  she  knew  the  sound  was  that  of  a  man 
sharpening  a  flint. 

Presently  the  trees  began  to  thin  out,  and 
then  came  a  regiment  of  nettles  barring  the 
way.  She  turned  aside,  and  then  she  came  to  a 
fallen  tree  that  she  knew,  with  a  noise  of  bees 
about  it.  And  so  presently  she  was  in  sight  of 
the  knoll,  very  far  off,  and  the  river  under  it, 
and  the  children  and  the  hippopotami  just  as 
they  had  been  yesterday,  and  the  thin  spire  of 
smoke  swaying  in  the  morning  breeze.  Far 


74 


Time  and  Space 


away  by  the  river  was  the  cluster  of  alders 
where  she  had  hidden.  And  at  the  sight  of  that 
the  fear  of  Uya  returned,  and  she  crept  into  a 
thicket  of  bracken,  out  of  which  a  rabbit  scut- 
tled, and  lay  awhile  to  watch  the  squatting- 
place. 

The  men  were  mostly  out  of  sight,  saving 
Wau,  the  flint-chopper;  and  at  that  she  felt 
safer.  They  were  away  hunting  food,  no 
doubt.  Some  of  the  women,  too,  were  down  in 
the  stream,  stooping  intent,  seeking  mussels, 
crayfish,  and  water-snails,  and  at  the  sight  of 
their  occupation  Eudena  felt  hungry.  She  rose, 
and  ran  through  the  fern,  designing  to  join 
them.  As  she  went  she  heard  a  voice  among 
the  bracken  calling  softly.  She  stopped.  Then 
suddenly  she  heard  a  rustle  behind  her,  and 
turning,  saw  Ugh-lomi  rising  out  of  the  fern. 
There  were  streaks  of  brown  blood  and  dirt  on 
his  face,  and  his  eyes  were  fierce,  and  the  white 
stone  of  Uya,  the  white  Fire  Stone,  that  none 
but  Uya  dared  to  touch,  was  in  his  hand.  In  a 
stride  he  was  beside  her,  and  gripped  her  arm. 
He  swung  her  about,  and  thrust  her  before  him 
towards  the  woods.  ''Uya/'  he  said,  and  waved 
his  arms  about.  She  heard  a  cry,  looked  back, 
and  saw  all  the  women  standing  up,  and  two 
wading  out  of  the  stream.   Then  came  a  nearer 


A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age  75 


howling,  and  the  old  woman  with  the  beard, 
who  watched  the  fire  on  the  knoll,  was  waving 
her  arms,  and  Wau,  the  man  who  had  been 
chipping  the  flint,  was  getting  to  his  feet.  The 
little  children  too  were  hurrying  and  shouting. 

"Come !"  said  Ugh-lomi,  and  dragged  her  by 
the  arm. 

She  still  did  not  understand. 

"Uya  has  called  the  death  word,''  said  Ugh- 
lomi,  and  she  glanced  back  at  the  screaming 
curve  of  figures,  and  understood. 

Wau  and  all  the  women  and  children  were 
coming  towards  them,  a  scattered  array  of  buff 
shock-headed  figures,  howling,  leaping,  and 
crying.  Over  the  knoll  two  youths  hurried. 
Down  among  the  ferns  to  the  right  came  a 
man,  heading  them  off  from  the  wood.  Ugh- 
lomi  left  her  arm,  and  the  two  began  running 
side  by  side,  leaping  the  bracken  and  stepping 
clear  and  wide.  Eudena,  knowing  her  fleetness 
and  the  fleetness  of  Ugh-lomi,  laughed  aloud  at 
the  unequal  chase.  They  were  an  exceptionally 
straight-limbed  couple  for  those  days. 

They  soon  cleared  the  open,  and  drew  near 
the  wood  of  chestnut-trees  again — neither 
afraid  now  because  neither  was  alone.  They 
slackened  their  pace,  already  not  excessive.  And 
suddenly  Eudena  cried  and  swerved  aside, 


76 


Time  and  Space 


pointing,  and  looking  up  through  the  tree- 
stems.  Ugh-lomi  saw  the  feet  and  legs  of  men 
running  towards  him.  Eudena  was  already 
running  off  at  a  tangent.  And  as  he  too  turned 
to  follow  her  they  heard  the  voice  of  Uya  com- 
ing through  the  trees,  and  roaring  out  his  rage 
at  them. 

Then  terror  came  in  their  hearts,  not  the  ter- 
ror that  numbs,  but  the  terror  that  makes  one 
silent  and  swift.  They  were  cut  off  now  on  two 
sides.  They  were  in  a  sort  of  corner  of  pursuit. 
On  the  right  hand,  and  near  by  them,  came  the 
men  swift  and  heavy,  with  bearded  Uya,  antler 
in  hand,  leading  them;  and  on  the  left,  scat- 
tered as  one  scatters  corn,  yellow  dashes  among 
the  fern  and  grass,  ran  Wau  and  the  women; 
and  even  the  little  children  from  the  shallow 
had  joined  the  chase.  The  two  parties  con- 
verged upon  them.  Off  they  went,  with  Eudena 
ahead. 

The}^  knew  there  was  no  mercy  for  them. 
There  was  no  hunting  so  sweet  to  these  ancient 
men  as  the  hunting  of  men.  Once  the  fierce  pas- 
sion of  the  chase  was  lit,  the  feeble  beginnings 
of  humanity  in  them  were  tTirown  to  the  winds. 
And  Uya  in  the  night  had  marked  Ugh-lomi 
with  the  death  word.  Ugh-lomi  was  the  day's 
,  quarry,  the  appointed  feast. 


A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age  77 


They  ran  straight — it  was  their  only  chance 
— taking  whatever  ground  came  in  the  way — a 
spread  of  stinging  nettles,  an  open  glade,  a 
clump  of  grass  out  of  which  a  hyaena  fled  snarl- 
ing. Then  woods  again,  long  stretches  of 
shady  leaf-mould  and  moss  under  the  green 
trunks.  Then  a  stiff  slope,  tree-clad,  and  long 
vistas  of  trees,  a  glade,  a  succulent  green  area 
of  black  mud,  a  wide  open  space  again,  and 
then  a  clump  of  lacerating  brambles,  with  beast 
tracks  through  it.  Behind  them  the  chase 
trailed  out  and  scattered,  with  Uya  ever  at  their 
heels.  Eudena  kept  the  first  place,  running 
light  and  with  her  breath  easy,  for  Ugh-lomi 
carried  the  Fire  Stone  in  his  hand. 

It  told  on  his  pace — not  at  first,  but  after  a 
time.  His  footsteps  behind  her  suddenly  grew 
remote.  Glancing  over  her  shoulder  as  they 
crossed  another  open  space,  Eudena  saw  that 
Ugh-lomi  was  many  yards  behind  her,  and 
Uya  close  upon  him,  with  antler  already  raised 
in  the  air  to  strike  him  down.  Wau  and  the 
others  were  but  just  emerging  from  the 
shadow  of  the  woods. 

Seeing  Ugh-lomi  in  peril,  Eudena  ran  side- 
ways, looking  back,  threw  up  her  arms  and 
cried  aloud,  just  as  the  antler  flew.  And  young 
Ugh-lomi,  expecting  this  and  understanding 


Time  and  Space 


her  cry,  ducked  his  head,  so  that  the  missile 
merely  struck  his  scalp  lightly,  making  but  a 
trivial  wound,  and  flew  over  him.  He  turned 
forthwith,  the  quartzite  Fire  Stone  in  both 
hands,  and  hurled  it  straight  at  Uya's  body  as 
he  ran  loose  from  the  throw.  Uya  shouted,  but 
could  not  dodge  it.  It  took  him  under  the  ribs, 
heavy  and  flat,  and  he  reeled  and  went  down 
without  a  cry.  Ugh-lomi  caught  up  the  antler 
— one  tine  of  it  was  tipped  with  his  own  blood 
— and  came  running  on  again  with  a  red  trickle 
just  coming  out  of  his  hair. 

Uya  rolled  over  twice,  and  lay  a  moment  be- 
fore he  got  up,  and  then  he  did  not  run  fast. 
The  colour  of  his  face  was  changed.  Wau  over- 
took him,  and  then  others,  and  he  coughed  and 
laboured  in  his  breath.  But  he  kept  on. 

At  last  the  two  fugitives  gained  the  bank  of 
the  river,  where  the  stream  ran  deep  and  nar- 
row, and  they  still  had  fifty  yards  in  hand  of 
Wau,  the  foremost  pursuer,  the  man  who  made 
the  smiting  stones.  He  carried  one,  a  large  flint, 
the  shape  of  an  oyster  and  double  the  size, 
chipped  to  a  chisel  edge,  in  either  hand. 

They  sprang  down  the  steep  bank  into  the 
stream,  rushed  through  the  water,  swam  the 
deep  current  in  two  or  three  strokes,  and  came 
out  wading  again,  dripping  and  refreshed,  to 


A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age  79 


clamber  up  the  farther  bank.  It  was  under- 
mined, and  with  willows  growing  thickly 
therefrom,  so  that  it  needed  clambering.  And 
while  Eudena  was  still  among  the  silvery- 
branches  and  Ugh-lomi  still  in  the  water — for 
the  antler  had  encumbered  him — Wau  came 
up  against  the  sky  on  the  opposite  bank,  and 
the  smiting  stone,  thrown  cunningly,  took  the 
side  of  Eudena's  knee.  She  struggled  to  the 
top  and  fell. 

They  heard  the  pursuers  shout  to  one  an- 
other, and  Ugh-lomi  climbing  to  her  and  mov- 
ing jerkily  to  mar  Wau's  aim,  felt  the  second 
smiting  stone  graze  his  ear,  and  heard  the 
water  splash  below  him. 

Then  it  was  Ugh-lomi,  the  stripling,  proved 
himself  to  have  come  to  man's  estate.  For  run- 
ning on,  he  found  Eudena  fell  behind,  limping, 
and  at  that  he  turned,  and  crying  savagely  and 
with  a  face  terrible  with  sudden  wrath  and 
trickling  blood,  ran  swiftly  past  her  back  to  the 
bank,  whirling  the  antler  round  his  head.  And 
Eudena  kept  on,  running  stoutly  still,  though 
she  must  needs  limp  at  every  step,  and  the  pain 
was  already  sharp. 

So  that  Wau,  rising  over  the  edge  and 
clutching  the  straight  willow  branches,  saw 
Ugh-lomi  towering  over  him,  gigantic  against 


8o 


Time  and  Space 


the  blue ;  saw  his  whole  body  swing  round,  and 
the  grip  of  his  hands  upon  the  antler.  The  edge 
of  the  antler  came  sweeping  through  the  air, 
and  he  saw  no  more.  The  water  under  the 
osiers  whirled  and  eddied  and  went  crimson 
six  feet  down  the  stream.  Uya  following 
stopped  knee-high  across  the  stream,  and  the 
man  who  was  swimming  turned  about. 

The  other  men  who  trailed  after — they  were 
none  of  them  very  mighty  men  (for  Uya  was 
more  cunning  than  strong,  brooking  no  sturdy 
rivals) — slackened  momentarily  at  the  sight  of 
Ugh-lomi  standing  there  above  the  willows, 
bloody  and  terrible,  between  them  and  the  halt- 
ing girl,  with  the  huge  antler  waving  in  his 
hand.  It  seemed  as  though  he  had  gon%itnto  the 
water  a  youth,  and  come  out  of  it  a  man  full 
grown. 

He  knew  what  there  was  behind  him.  A 
broad  stretch  of  grass,  and  then  a  thicket,  and 
in  that  Eudena  could  hide.  That  was  clear  in 
his  mind,  though  his  thinking  powers  were  too 
feeble  to  see  what  should  happen  thereafter. 
Uya  stood  knee-deep,  undecided  and  unarmed. 
His  heavy  mouth  hung  open,  showing  his  ca- 
nine teeth,  and  he  panted  heavily.  His  side  was 
flushed  and  bruised  under  the  hair.  The  other 
man  beside  him  carried  a  sharpened  stick.  The 


A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age      8 1 


rest  of  the  hunters  came  up  one  by  one  to  the 
top  of  the  bank,  hairy,  long-armed  men  clutch- 
ing flints  and  sticks.  Two  ran  off  along  the 
bank  down  stream,  and  then  clambered  to  the 
water,  where  Wau  had  come  to  the  surface 
struggling  weakly.  Before  they  could  reach 
him  he  went  under  again.  Two  others  threat- 
ened Ugh-lomi  from  the  bank. 

He  answered  back,  shouts,  vague  insults, 
gestures.  Then  Uya,  who  had  been  hesitating, 
roared  with  rage,  and  whirling  his  fists  plunged 
into  the  water.  His  followers  splashed  after 
him. 

Ugh-lomi  glanced  over  his  shoulder  and 
found  Eudena  already  vanished  into  the 
thicket.  He  would  perhaps  have  waited  for 
Uya,  but  Uya  preferred  to  spar  in  the  water 
below  him  until  the  others  were  beside  him. 
Human  tactics  in  those  days,  in  all  serious 
fighting,  were  the  tactics  of  the  pack.  Prey  that 
turned  at  bay  they  gathered  around  and  rushed. 
Ugh-lomi  felt  the  rush  coming,  and  hurling 
the  antler  at  Uya,  turned  about  and  fled. 

When  he  halted  to  look  back  from  the 
shadow  of  the  thicket,  he  found  only  three  of 
his  pursuers  had  followed  him  across  the  river, 
and  they  were  going  back  again.  Uya,  with  a 
bleeding  mouth,  was  on  the  farther  side  of  the 

F 


82 


Time  and  Space 


stream  again,  but  lower  down,  and  holding  his 
hand  to  his  side.  The  others  were  in  the  river 
dragging  something  to  shore.  For  a  time  at 
least  the  chase  was  intermitted. 

Ugh-lomi  stood  watching  for  a  space,  and 
snarled  at  the  sight  of  Uya.  Then  he  turned 
and  plunged  into  the  thicket. 

In  a  minute,  Eudena  came  hastening  to  join 
him,  and  they  went  on  hand  in  hand.  He  dimly 
perceived  the  pain  she  suffered  from  the  cut 
and  bruised  knee,  and  chose  the  easier  ways. 
But  they  went  on  all  that  day,  mile  after  mile, 
through  wood  and  thicket,  until  at  last  they 
came  to  the  chalk  land,  open  grass  with  rare 
woods  of  beech,  and  the  birch  growing  near 
water,  and  they  saw  the  Wealden  mountains 
nearer,  and  groups  of  horses  grazing  together. 
They  went  circumspectly,  keeping  always  near 
thicket  and  cover,  for  this  was  a  strange  region 
— even  its  ways  were  strange.  Steadily  the 
ground  rose,  until  the  chestnut  forests  spread 
wide  and  blue  below  them,  and  the  Thames 
marshes  shone  silvery,  high  and  far.  They  saw 
no  men,  for  in  those  days  men  were  still  only 
just  come  into  this  part  of  the  world,  and  were 
moving  but  slowly  along  the  river-ways. 
Towards  evening  they  came  on  the  river  again, 
but  now  it  ran  in  a  gorge,  between  high  cliffs  of 


A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age      8  3 


white  chalk  that  sometimes  overhung  it.  Down 
the  clififs  was  a  scrub  of  birches  and  there  were 
many  birds  there.  And  high  up  the  cHff  was  a 
little  shelf  by  a  tree,  whereon  they  clambered  to 
pass  the  night. 

They  had  had  scarcely  any  food;  it  was  not 
the  time  of  year  for  berries,  and  they  had  no 
time  to  go  aside  to  snare  or  waylay.  They 
tramped  in  a  hungry  weary  silence,  gnawing  at 
twigs  and  leaves.  But  over  the  surface  of  the 
clififs  were  a  multitude  of  snails,  and  in  a  bush 
were  the  freshly  laid  eggs  of  a  little  bird,  and 
then  Ugh-lomi  threw  at  and  killed  a  squirrel 
in  a  beech-tree,  so  that  at  last  they  fed  well. 
Ugh-lomi  watched  during  the  night,  his  chin 
on  his  knees ;  and  he  heard  young  foxes  crying 
hard  by,  and  the  noise  of  mammoths  down  the 
gorge,  and  the  hysenas  yelling  and  laughing  far 
away.  It  was  chilly,  but  they  dared  not  light  a 
fire.  Whenever  he  dozed,  his  spirit  went 
abroad,  and  straightway  met  with  the  spirit  of 
Uya,  and  they  fought.  And  always  Ugh-lomi* 
was  paralysed  so  that  he  could  not  smite  nor 
run,  and  then  he  would  awake  suddenly.  Eu- 
dena,  too,  dreamt  evil  things  of  Uya,  so  that 
they  both  awoke  with  the  fear  of  him  in  their 
hearts,  and  by  the  light  of  the  dawn  they  saw  a 


Time  and  Space 


woolly  rhinoceros  go  blundering  down  the  val- 
ley. 

During  the  day  they  caressed  one  another 
and  were  glad  of  the  sunshine,  and  Eudena's 
leg  was  so  stifif  she  sat  on  the  ledge  all  day. 
Ugh-lomi  found  great  flints  sticking  out  of  the 
clifif  face,  greater  than  any  he  had  seen,  and  he 
dragged  some  to  the  ledge  and  began  chipping, 
so  as  to  be  armed  against  Uya  when  he  came 
again:  And  at  one  he  laughed  heartily,  and 
Eudena  laughed,  and  they  threw  it  about  in  de- 
rision. It  had  a  hole  in  it.  They  stuck  their 
fingers  through  it,  it  was  very  funny  indeed. 
Then  they  peeped  at  one  another  through  it. 
Afterwards,  Ugh-lomi  got  himself  a  stick,  and 
thrusting  by  chance  at  this  foolish  flint,  the 
stick  went  in  and  stuck  there.  He  had  rammed 
it  in  too  tightly  to  withdraw  it.  That  was  still 
stranger — scarcely  funny,  terrible  almost,  and 
for  a  time  Ugh-lomi  did  not  greatly  care  to 
touch  the  thing.  It  was  as  if  the  flint  had  bit 
and  held  with  its  teeth.  But  then  he  got  fa- 
miliar with  the  odd  combination.  He  swung  it 
about,  and  perceived  that  the  stick  with 
the  heavy  stone  on  the  end  struck  a  better  blow 
than  anything  he  knew.  He  went  to  and  fro 
swinging  it,  and  striking  with  it;  but  later  he 
tired  of  it  and  threw  it  aside.   In  the  afternoon 


A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age  85 


he  went  up  over  the  brow  of  the  white  cliff,  and 
lay  watching  by  a  rabbit-warren  until  the  rab- 
bits came  out  to  play.  There  were  no  men 
^hereabouts,  and  the  rabbits  were  heedless.  He 
threw  a  smiting  stone  he  had  made  and  got  a 
kill. 

That  night  they  made  a  fire  from  flint  sparks 
and  bracken  fronds,  and  talked  and  caressed  by 
it.  And  in  their  sleep  Uya's  spirit  came  again, 
and  suddenly,  while  Ugh-lomi  was  trying  to 
fight  vainly,  the  foolish  flint  on  the  stick  came 
into  his  hand,  and  he  struck  Uya  with  it,  and 
behold!  it  killed  him.  But  afterwards  came 
other  dreams  of  Uya — for  spirits  take  a  lot  of 
killing,  and  he  had  to  be  killed  again.  Then 
after  that  the  stone  would  not  keep  on  the 
stick.  He  awoke  tired  and  rather  gloomy,  and 
was  sulky  all  the  forenoon,  in  spite  of  Eudena's 
kindliness,  and  instead  of  hunting  he  sat  chip- 
ping a  sharp  edge  to  the  singular  flint,  and 
looking  strangely  at  her.  Then  he  bound  the 
perforated  flint  on  to  the  stick  with  strips  of 
rabbit  skin.  And  afterwards  he  walked  up  and 
down  the  ledge,  striking  with  it,  and  muttering 
to  himself,  and  thinking  of  Uya.  It  felt  very 
fine  and  heavy  in  the  hand. 

Several  days,  more  than  there  was  any 
counting  in  those  days,  five  days,  it  may  be,  or 


86 


Time  and  Space 


six,  did  Ugh-lomi  and  Eudena  stay  on  that 
shelf  in  the  gorge  of  the  river,  and  they  lost 
all  fear  of  men,  and  their  fire  burnt  redly  of  a 
night.  And  they  were  very  merry  together; 
there  was  food  every  day,  sweet  water,  and  no 
enemies.  Eudena's  knee  was  well  in  a  couple 
of  days,  for  those  ancient  savages  had  quick- 
healing  flesh.   Indeed,  they  were  very  happy. 

On  one  of  those  days  Ugh-lomi  dropped  a 
chunk  of  flint  over  the  cliff.  He  saw  it  fall,  and 
go  bounding  across  the  river  bank  into  the  river, 
and  after  laughing  and  thinking  it  over  a  little 
he  tried  another.  This  smashed  a  bush  of  hazel 
in  the  most  interesting  way.  They  spent  all  the 
morning  dropping  stones  from  the  ledge,  and 
in  the  afternoon  they  discovered  this  new  and 
interesting  pastime  was  also  possible  from  the 
cliffbrow.  The  next  day  they  had  forgotten 
this  delight.  Or  at  least,  it  seemed  they  had 
forgotten. 

But  Uya  came  in  dreams  to  spoil  the  para- 
dise. Three  nights  he  came  fighting  Ugh-lomi. 
In  the  morning  after  these  dreams  Ugh-lomi 
would  walk  up  and  down,  threatening  him  and 
swinging  the  axe,  and  at  last  came  the  night 
after  Ugh-lomi  brained  the  otter,  and  they  had 
feasted.  Uya  went  too  far.  Ugh-lomi  awoke, 
scowling  under  his  heavy  brows,  and  he  took 
his  axe,  and  extending  his  hand  towards  Eu- 


.A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age  87 

dena  he  bade  her  wait  for  him  upon  the  ledge. 
Then  he  clambered  down  the  white  declivity, 
glanced  up  once  from  the  foot  of  it  and  flour- 
ished his  axe,  and  without  looking  back  again 
went  striding  along  the  river  bank  until  the 
overhanging  cliff  at  the  bend  hid  him. 

Two  days  and  nights  did  Eudena  sit  alone  by 
the  fire  on  the  ledge  waiting,  and  in  the  night 
the  beasts  howled  over  the  clififs  and  down  the 
valley,  and  on  the  cliff  over  against  her  the 
hunched  hyaenas  prowled  black  against  the  sky. 
But  no  evil  thing  came  near  her  save  fear. 
Once,  far  away,  she  heard  the  roaring  of  a  lion, 
following  the  horses  as  they  came  northward 
over  the  grass  lands  with  the  spring.  All  that 
time  she  waited — the  waiting  that  is  pain. 

And  the  third  day  Ugh-lomi  came  back,  up 
the  river.  The  plumes  of  a  raven  were  in  his 
hair.  The  first  axe  was  red-stained,  and  had 
long  dark  hairs  upon  it,  and  he  carried  the 
necklace  that  had  marked  the  favourite  of  Uya 
in  his  hand.  He  walked  in  the  soft  places,  giv- 
ing no  heed  to  his  trail.  Save  a  raw  cut  below 
his  jaw  there  was  not  a  wound  upon  him. 
''Uya!''  cried  Ugh-lomi  exultant,  and  Eudena 
saw  it  was  well.  He  put  the  necklace  on  Eu- 
dena, and  they  ate  and  drank  together.  And 
after  eating  he  began  to  rehearse  the  whole 


88 


Time  and  Space 


story  from  the  beginning,  when  Uya  had  cast 
his  eyes  on  Eudena,  and  Uya  and  Ugh-lomi, 
fighting  in  the  forest,  had  been  chased  by  the 
bear,  eking  out  his  scanty  words  with  abundant 
pantomime,  springing  to  his  feet  and  whirHng 
the  stone  axe  round  when  it  came  to  the  fight- 
ing. The  last  fight  was  a  mighty  one,  stamp- 
ing and  shouting,  and  once  a  blow  at  the  fire 
that  sent  a  torrent  of  sparks  up  into  the  night. 
And  Eudena  sat  red  in  the  light  of  the  fire, 
gloating  on  him,  her  face  flushed  and  her  eyes 
shining,  and  the  necklace  Uya  had  made  about 
her  neck.  It  was  a  splendid  time,  and  the  stars 
that  look  down  on  us  looked  down  on  her,  our 
ancestor — who  has  been  dead  now  these  fifty 
thousand  years. 

II  THE  CAVE  BEAR 

In  the  days  when  Eudena  and  Ugh-lomi  fled 
from  the  people  of  Uya  towards  the  fir-clad 
mountains  of  the  Weald,  across  the  forests  of 
sweet  chestnut  and  the  grass-clad  chalkland, 
and  hid  themselves  at  last  in  the  gorge  of  the 
river  between  the  chalk  cliffs,  men  were  few 
and  their  squatting-places  far  between.  The 
nearest  men  to  them  were  those  of  the  tribe,  a 
full  day's  journey  down  the  river,  and  up  the 
mountains  there  were  none.  Man  was  indeed  a 


A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age  89 

(^'newcomer  to  this  part  of  the  world  in  that  an- 
cient time,  coming  slowly  along  the  rivers,  gen- 
eration after  generation,  from  one  squatting- 
place  to  another,  from  the  south-westward. 
And  the  animals  that  held  the  land,  the  hip- 
popotamus and  rhinoceros  of  the  river  valleys, 
the  horses  of  the  grass  plains,  the  deer  and 
swine  of  the  woods,  the  grey  apes  in  the 
branches,  the  cattle  of  the  uplands,  feared  him 
but  little — ^let  alone  the  mammoths  in  the 
mountains  and  the  elephants  that  came  through 
the  land  in  the  summer-time  out  of  the  south. 
For  why  should  they  fear  him,  with  but  the 
rough,  chipped  flints  that  he  had  not  learnt  to 
haft  and  which  he  threw  but  ill,  and  the  poor 
spear  of  sharpened  wood,  as  all  the  weapons 
he  had  against  hoof  and  horn,  tooth  and  claw  ? 

Andoo,  the  huge  cave  bear,  who  lived  in  the 
cave  up  the  gorge,  had  never  even  seen  a  man 
in  all  his  wise  and  respectable  life,  until  mid- 
way through  one  night,  as  he  was  prowling 
down  the  gorge  along  the  clifif  edge,  he  saw  the 
glare  of  Eudena's  fire  upon  the  ledge,  and  Eu- 
dena  red  and  shining,  and  Ugh-lomi,  with  a  gi- 
gantic shadow  mocking  him  upon  the  white 
cliff,  going  to  and  fro,  shaking  his  mane  of 
hair,  and  waving  the  axe  of  stone — the  first  axe 
of  stone — while  he  chanted  of  the  killing  of 


90 


Time  and  Space 


Uya.  The  cave  bear  was  far  up  the  gorge,  and 
he  saw  the  thing  slanting-ways  and  far  off.  He 
was  so  surprised  he  stood  quite  still  upon  the 
edge,  sniffing  the  novel  odour  of  burning 
bracken,  and  wondering  whether  the  dawn  was 
coming  up  in  the  wrong  place. 

He  was  the  lord  of  the  rocks  and  caves,  was 
the  cave  bear,  as  his  slighter  brother,  the  griz- 
zly, was  lord  of  the  thick  woods  below,  and  as 
the  dappled  lion — the  lion  of  those  days  was 
dappled — was  lord  of  the  thorn-thickets,  reed- 
beds,  and  open  plains.  He  was  the  greatest  of 
all  meat-eaters;  he  knew  no  fear,  none  preyed 
on  him,  and  none  gave  him  battle ;  only  the  rhi- 
noceros was  beyond  his  strength.  Even  the 
mammoth  shunned  his  country.  This  invasion 
perplexed  him.  He  noticed  these  new  beasts 
were  shaped  like  monkeys,  and  sparsely  hairy 
like  young  pigs.  ''Monkey  and  young  pig,'' 
said  the  cave  bear.  "It  might  not  be  so  bad. 
But  that  red  thing  that  jumps,  and  the  black 
thing  jumping  with  it  yonder!  Never  in  my 
life  have  I  seen  such  things  before !" 

He  came  slowly  along  the  brow  of  the  cliff 
towards  them,  stopping  thrice  to  sniff  and  peer, 
and  the  reek  of  the  fire  grew  stronger.  A 
couple  of  hyaenas  also  were  so  intent  upon  the 
thing  below  that  Andoo,  coming  soft  and  easy, 


A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age  91 

was  close  upon  them  before  they  knew  of  him 
or  he  of  them.  They  started  guiltily  and  went 
lurching  off.  Coming  round  in  a  wheel,  a  hun- 
dred yards  off,  they  began  yelling  and  calling 
him  names  to  revenge  themselves  for  the  start 
they  had  had.  ''Ya-ha!''  they  cried.  ''Who 
can't  grub  his  own  burrow?  Who  eats  roots 
like  a  pig?  .  .  .  Ya-ha!"  for  even  in  those 
days  the  hyaena's  manners  were  just  as  of- 
fensive as  they  are  now. 

.  "Who  answers  the  hyaena?"  growled  Andoo, 
peering  through  the  midnight  dimness  at  them, 
and  then  going  to  look  at  the  cliff  edge. 

There  was  Ugh-lomi  still  telling  his  story, 
and  the  fire  getting  low,  and  the  scent  of  the 
burning  hot  and  strong. 

Andoo  stood  on  the  edge  of  the  chalk  cliff  for 
some  time,  shifting  his  vast  weight  from  foot 
to  foot,  and  swaying  his  head  to  and  fro,  with 
his  mouth  open,  his  ears  erect  and  twitching, 
and  the  nostrils  of  his  big,  black  muzzle 
sniffing.  He  was  very  curious,  was  the  cave 
bear,  more  curious  than  any  of  the  bears  that 
live  now,  and  the  flickering  fire  and  the  incom- 
prehensible movements  of  the  man,  let  alone 
the  intrusion  into  his  indisputable  province, 
stirred  him  with  a  sense  of  strange  new  hap- 
penings.  He  had  been  after  red  deer  fawn  that 


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Time  and  Space 


night,  for  the  cave  bear  was  a  miscellaneous 
hunter,  but  this  quite  turned  him  from  that  en- 
terprise. 

''Ya-ha yelled  the  hyaenas  behind.  ''Ya-ha- 
har 

Peering  through  the  starlight,  Andoo  saw- 
there  were  now  three  or  four  going  to  and  fro 
against  the  grey  hillside.  ''They  will  hang 
about  me  now  all  the  night.  .  .  .  until  I 
kill,"  said  Andoo.  "Filth  of  the  world!"  And 
mainly  to  annoy  them,  he  resolved  to  watch  the 
red  flicker  in  the  gorge  until  the  dawn  came  to 
drive  the  hyaena  scum  home.  And  after  a  time 
they  vanished,  and  he  heard  their  voices,  like  a 
party  of  Cockney  beanfeasters,  away  in  the 
beech-woods.  Then  they  came  slinking  near 
again.  Andoo  yawned  and  went  on  along  the 
clif¥,  and  they  followed.  Then  he  stopped  and 
went  back. 

It  was  a  splendid  night,  beset  with  shining 
constellations,  the  same  stars,  but  not  the  same 
constellations  we  know,  for  since  those  days  all 
the  stars  have  had  time  to  move  into  new 
places.  Far  away  across  the  open  space  beyond 
where  the  heavy-shouldered,  lean-bodied 
hyaenas  blundered  and  howled,  was  a  beech- 
wood,  and  the  mountain  slopes  rose  beyond,  a 
dim  mystery,  until  their  snow-capped  summits 


A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age  93 

came  out  white  and  cold  and  clear,  touched  by 
the  first  rays  of  the  yet  unseen  moon.  It  was  a 
vast  silence,  save  when  the  yell  of  the  hyaenas 
flung  a  vanishing  discordance  across  its  peace, 
or  when  from  down  the  hills  the  trumpeting  of 
the  new-come  elephants  came  faintly  on  the 
faint  breeze.  And  below  now,  the  red  flicker 
had  dwindled  and  was  steady,  and  shone  a 
deeper  red,  and  Ugh-lomi  had  finished  his  story 
and  was  preparing  to  sleep,  and  Eudena  sat  and 
listened  to  the  strange  voices  of  unknown 
beasts,  and  watched  the  dark  eastern  sky  grow- 
ing deeply  luminous  at  the  advent  of  the  moon. 
.  Down  below,  the  river  talked  to  itself,  and 
things  unseen  went  to  and  fro. 

After  a  time  the  bear  went  away,  but  in  an 
hour  he  was  back  again.  Then,  as  if  struck  by 
a  thought,  he  turned,  and  went  up  the 
gorge.    .    .  . 

The  night  passed,  and  Ugh-lomi  slept  on. 
The  waning  moon  rose  and  lit  the  gaunt 
white  cliff  overhead  with  a  light  that  was  pale 
and  vague.  The  gorge  remained  in  a  deeper 
shadow  and  seemed  all  the  darker.  Then  by 
imperceptible  degrees,  the  day  came  stealing  in 
the  wake  of  the  moonlight.  Eudena's  eyes  wan- 
dered to  the  clif¥  brow  overhead  once,  and  then 
again.   Each  time  the  line  was  sharp  and  clear 


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Time  and  Space 


against  the  sky,  and  yet  she  had  a  dim  percep- 
tion of  something  lurking  there.  The  red  of 
the  fire  grew  deeper  and  deeper,  grey  scales 
spread  upon  it,  its  vertical  column  of  smoke  be- 
came more  and  more  visible,  and  up  and  down 
the  gorge  things  that  had  been  unseen  grew 
clear  in  a  colourless  illumination.  She  may 
have  dozed. 

Suddenly  she  started  up  from  her  squatting 
position,  erect  and  alert,  scrutinising  the  cliff 
up  and  down. 

She  made  the  faintest  sound,  and  Ugh-lomi 
too,  light-sleeping  like  an  animal,  was  instantly 
awake.  He  caught  up  his  axe  and  came  noise- 
lessly to  her  side. 

The  light  was  still  dim,  the  world  now  all  in 
black  and  dark  grey,  and  one  sickly  star  still 
lingered  overhead.  The  ledge  they  were  on  was 
a  little  grassy  space,  six  feet  wide,  perhaps,  and 
twenty  feet  long,  sloping  outwardly,  and  with 
a  handful  of  St.  John's  wort  growing  near  the 
edge.  Below  it  the  soft,  white  rock  fell  away  in 
a  steep  slope  of  nearly  fifty  feet  to  the  thick 
bush  of  hazel  that  fringed  the  river.  Down  the 
river  this  slope  increased,  until  some  way  off  a 
thin  grass  held  its  own  right  up  to  the  crest  of 
the  cliff.  Overhead,  forty  or  fifty  feet  of  rock 
bulged  into  the  great  masses  characteristic  of 


A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age  95 


chalk,  but  at  the  end  of  the  ledge  a  gully,  a  pre- 
cipitous groove  of  discoloured  rock,  slashed 
the  face  of  the  clifif,  and  gave  a  footing  to  a 
scrubby  growth,  by  which  Eudena  and  Ugh- 
lomi  went  up  and  down. 

They  stood  as  noiseless  as  startled  deer,  with 
every  sense  expectant.  For  a  minute  they  heard 
nothing,  and  then  came  a  faint  rattling  of  dust 
down  the  gully,  and  the  creaking  of  twigs. 

Ugh-lomi  gripped  his  axe,  and  went  to  the 
edge  of  the  ledge,  for  the  bulge  of  the  chalk 
overhead  had  hidden  the  upper  part  of  the 
gully.  And  forthwith,  with  a  sudden  contrac- 
tion of  the  heart,  he  saw  the  cave  bear  half-way 
down  from  the  brow,  and  making  a  gingerly 
backward  step  with  his  flat  hind-foot.  His 
hind-quarters  were  towards  Ugh-lomi,  and  he 
clawed  at  the  rocks  and  bushes  so  that  he 
seemed  flattened  against  the  cliff.  He  looked 
none  the  less  for  that.  From  his  shining  snout 
to  his  stumpy  tail  he  was  a  lion  and  a  half,  the 
length  of  two  tall  men.  He  looked  over  his 
shoulder,  and  his  huge  mouth  was  open  with 
the  exertion  of  holding  up  his  great  carcase, 
and  his  tongue  lay  out.    .    .  . 

He  got  his  footing,  and  came  down  slowly,  a 
yard  nearer. 


96 


Time  and  Space 


''Bear,"  said  Ugh-lomi,  looking  round  with 
his  face  white. 

But  Eudena,  with  terror  in  her  eyes,  was 
pointing  down  the  diff. 

Ugh-lomi's  mouth  fell  open.  For  down  be- 
low, with  her  big  fore-feet  against  the  rock, 
stood  another  big  brown-grey  bulk — the  she- 
bear.  She  was  not  so  big  as  Andoo,  but  she 
was  big  enough  for  all  that. 

Then  suddenly  Ugh-lomi  gave  a  cry,  and 
catching  up  a  handful  of  the  litter  of  ferns  that 
lay  scattered  on  the  ledge,  he  thrust  it  into  the 
pallid  ash  of  the  fire.  ''Brother  Fire he  cried, 
"Brother  Fire!"  And  Eudena,  starting  into 
activity,  did  likewise.  "Brother  Fire!  Help, 
help !  Brother  Fire !" 

Brother  Fire  was  still  red  in  his  heart,  but 
he  turned  to  grey  as  they  scattered  him. 
"Brother  Fire!"  they  screamed.  But  he  whis- 
pered and  passed,  and  there  was  nothing  but 
ashes.  Then  Ugh-lomi  danced  with  anger  and 
struck  the  ashes  with  his  fist.  But  Eudena  be- 
gan to  hammer  the  firestone  against  a  flint. 
And  the  eyes  of  each  were  turning  ever  and 
again  towards  the  gully  by  Which  Andoo  was 
climbing  down.  Brother  Fire ! 

Suddenly  the  huge  furry  hind-quarters  of 
the  bear  came  into  view,  beneath  the  bulge  of 


A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age  97 

the  chalk  that  had  hidden  him.  He  was  still 
clambering  gingerly  down  the  nearly  vertical 
surface.  His  head  was  yet  out  of  sight,  but 
they  could  hear  him  talking  to  himself.  'Tig 
and  monkey/'  said  the  cave  bear.  'It  ought  to 
be  good.'' 

Eudena  struck  a  spark  and  blew  at  it;  it 
twinkled  brighter  and  then — went  out.  At  that 
she  cast  down  flint  and  firestone  and  stared 
blankly.  Then  she  sprang  to  her  feet  and 
scrambled  a  yard  or  so  up  the  clif¥  above 
the  ledge.  How  she  hung  on  even  for  a  mo- 
ment I  do  not  know,  for  the  chalk  was  vertical 
and  without  grip  for  a  monkey.  In  a  couple  of 
seconds  she  had  slid  back  to  the  ledge  again 
with  bleeding  hands. 

Ugh-lomi  was  making  frantic  rushes  about 
the  ledge — now  he  would  go  to  the  edge,  now 
to  the  gully.  He  did  not  know  what  to  do,  he 
could  not  think.  The  she-bear  looked  smaller 
than  her  mate — much.  If  they  rushed  down 
on  her  together,  one  might  live.  "Ugh?"  said 
the  cave  bear,  and  Ugh-lomi  turned  again  and 
saw  his  little  eyes  peering  under  the  bulge  of 
the  chalk. 

Eudena,  cowering  at  the  end  of  the  ledge, 
began  to  scream  like  a  gripped  rabbit. 

At  that  a  sort  of  madness  came  upon  Ugh- 

G 


98 


Time  and  Space 


lomi.  With  a  mighty  cry,  he  caught  up  his  axe 
and  ran  towards  Andoo.  The  monster  gave  a 
grunt  of  surprise.  In  a  moment  Ugh-lomi  was 
cHnging  to  a  bush  right  underneath  the  bear, 
and  in  another  he  was  hanging  to  its  back  half 
buried  in  fur,  with  one  fist  clutched  in  the  hair 
under  its  jaw.  The  bear  was  too  astonished  at 
this  fantastic  attack  to  do  more  than  cling 
passive.  And  then  the  axe,  the  first  of  all  axes, 
rang  on  its  skull. 

The  bear's  head  twisted  from  side  to  side, 
and  he  began  a  petulant  scolding  growl.  The 
axe  bit  within  an  inch  of  the  left  eye,  and  the 
hot  blood  blinded  that  side.  At  that  the  brute 
roared  with  surprise  and  anger,  and  his  teeth 
gnashed  six  inches  from  Ugh-lomi's  face.  Then 
the  axe,  clubbed  close,  came  down  heavily  on 
the  corner  of  the  jaw. 

The  next  blow  blinded  the  right  side  and 
called  forth  a  roar,  this  time  of  pain.  Eudena 
saw  the  huge,  flat  feet  slipping  and  sliding,  and 
suddenly  the  bear  gave  a  clumsy  leap  sideways, 
as  if  for  the  ledge.  Then  everything  vanished, 
and  the  hazels  smashed,  and  a  roar  of  pain  and 
a  tumult  of  shouts  and  growls  came  up  from 
far  below. 

Eudena  screamed  and  ran  to  the  edge  and 
peered  over.    For  a  moment,  man  and  bears 


A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age  99 

were  a  heap  together,  Ugh-lomi  uppermost; 
and  then  he  had  sprung  clear  and  was  scaHng 
the  gully  again,  with  the  bears  rolling  and 
striking  at  one  another  among  the  hazels.  But 
he  had  left  his  axe  below,  and  three  knob-ended 
streaks  of  carmine  were  shooting  down  his 
thigh.  ''Up  y  he  cried,  and  in  a  moment  Eu- 
dena  was  leading  the  way  to  the  top  of  the  cliff. 

In  half  a  minute  they  were  at  the  crest,  their 
hearts  pumping  noisily,  with  Andoo  and  his 
wife  far  and  safe  below  them.  Andoo  was  sit- 
ting on  his  haunches,  both  paws  at  work,  try- 
ing with  quick  exasperated  movements  to  wipe 
the  blindness  out  of  his  eyes,  and  the  she-bear 
stood  on  all-fours  a  little  way  off,  ruffled  in  ap- 
pearance and  growling  angrily.  Ugh-lomi 
flung  himself  flat  on  the  grass,  and  lay  pant- 
ing and  bleeding  with  his  face  on  his  arms. 

For  a  second  Eudena  regarded  the  bears, 
then  she  came  and  sat  beside  him,  looking  at 
him.    .    .  . 

Presently  she  put  forth  her  hand  timidly  and 
touched  him,  and  made  the  guttural  sound  that 
was  his  name.  He  turned  over  and  raised  him- 
self on  his  arm.  His  face  was  pale,  like  the 
face  of  one  who  is  afraid.  He  looked  at  her 
steadfastly  for  a  moment,  and  then  suddenly  he 
laughed.  "Waugh!"  he  said  exultantly. 


loo  Time  and  Space 


" Waugh !"  said  she — a  simple  but  expressive 
conversation. 

Then  Ugh-lomi  came  and  knelt  beside  her, 
and  on  hands  and  knees  peered  over  the  brow 
and  examined  the  gorge.  His  breath  was 
steady  now,  and  the  blood  on  his  leg  had  ceased 
to  flow,  though  the  scratches  the  she-bear  had 
made  were  open  and  wide.  He  squatted  up  and 
sat  staring  at  the  footmarks  of  the  great  bear 
as  they  came  to  the  gully — ^they  were  as  wide 
as  his  head  and  twice  as  long.  Then  he  jumped 
up  and  went  along  the  cliff  face  until  the  ledge 
was  visible.  Here  he  sat  down  for  some  time 
thinking,  while  Eudena  watched  him.  Presently 
she  saw  the  bears  had  gone. 

At  last  Ugh-lomi  rose,  as  one  whose  mind 
is  made  up.  He  returned  towards  the  gully, 
Eudena  keeping  close  by  him,  and  together  they 
clambered  to  the  ledge.  They  took  the  firestone 
and  a  flint,  and  then  Ugh-lomi  went  down  to 
the  foot  of  the  cliff  very  cautiously,  and  found 
his  axe.  They  returned  to  the  cliff  as  quietly 
as  they  could,  and  set  off  at  a  brisk  walk.  The 
ledge  was  a  home  no  longer,  with  such  callers 
in  the  neighbourhood.  Ugh-lomi  carried  the 
axe  and  Eudena  the  firestone.  So  simple  was 
a  Palaeolithic  removal. 

They  went  up-stream,  although  it  might  lead 


A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age  loi 

to  the  very  lair  of  the  cave  bear,  because  there 
was  no  other  way  to  go.  Down  the  stream 
was  the  tribe,  and  had  not  Ugh-lomi  killed  Uya 
and  Wau  ?  By  the  stream  they  had  to  keep — 
because  of  drinking. 

So  they  marched  through  beech  trees,  with 
the  gorge  deepening  until  the  river  flowed,  a 
frothing  rapid,  five  hundred  feet  below  them. 
Of  all  the  changeful  things  in  this  world 
of  change,  the  courses  of  rivers  in  deep  valleys 
change  least.  It  was  the  river  Wey,  the  river 
we  know  to-day,  and  they  marched  over  the 
very  spots  where  nowadays  stand  little  Guild- 
ford and  Godalming — the  first  human  beings 
to  come  into  the  land.  Once  a  grey  ape  chat- 
tered and  vanished,  and  all  along  the  cliff  edge, 
vast  and  even,  ran  the  spoor  of  the  great  cave 
bear. 

And  then  the  spoor  of  the  bear  fell  away 
from  the  cliff,  showing,  Ugh-lomi  thought, 
that  he  came  from  some  place  to  the  left,  and 
keeping  to  the  cliff's  edge,  they  presently  came 
to  an  end.  They  found  themselves  looking 
down  on  a  great  semi-circular  space  caused  by 
the  collapse  of  the  cliff.  It  had  smashed  right 
across  the  gorge,  banking  the  up-stream  water 
back  in  a  pool  which  overflowed  in  a  rapid.  The 
slip  had  happened  long  ago.    It  was  grassed 


I02  Time  and  Space 


over,  but  the  face  of  the  cliffs  that  stood  about 
the  semicircle  was  still  almost  fresh-looking 
and  white  as  on  the  day  when  the  rock  must 
have  broken  and  slid  down.  Starkly  exposed 
and  black  under  the  foot  of  these  cliffs  were  the 
mouths  of  several  caves.  And  as  they  stood 
there,  looking  at  the  space,  and  disinclined  to 
skirt  it,  because  they  thought  the  bears'  lair  lay 
somewhere  on  the  left  in  the  direction  they  must 
needs  take,  they  saw  suddenly  first  one  bear  an(|^ 
then  two  coming  up  the  grass  slope  to  the  right 
and  going  across  the  amphitheatre  towards  the 
caves.  Andoo  was  first;  he  dropped  a  lit- 
tle on  his  fore-foot  and  his  mien  was  despond- 
ent, and  the  she-bear  came  shufHing  behind. 

Eudena  and  Ugh-lomi  stepped  back  from  the 
cliff  until  they  could  just  see  the  bears  over  the 
verge.  Then  Ugh-lomi  stopped.  Eudena  pulled 
his  arm,  but  he  turned  with  a  forbidding 
gesture,  and  her  hand  dropped.  Ugh-lomi  stood 
watching  the  bears,  with  his  axe  in  his  hand, 
until  they  had  vanished  into  the  cave.  He 
growled  softly,  and  shook  the  axe  at  the  she- 
bear's  receding  quarters.  Then  to  Eudena's  ter- 
ror, instead  of  creeping  off  with  her,  he  lay  flat 
down  and  crawled  forward  into  such  a  position 
that  he  could  just  see  the  cave.  It  was  bears — 


A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age  103 

and  he  did  it  as  calmly  as  if  it  had  been  rabbits 
he  was  watching ! 

He  lay  still,  like  a  barked  log,  sun-dappled, 
in  the  shadow  of  the  trees.  He  was  thinking. 
And  Eudena  had  learnt,  even  when  a  little  girl, 
that  when  Ugh-lomi  became  still  like  that,  jaw- 
bone on  fist,  novel  things  presently  began  to 
happen. 

It  was  an  hour  before  the  thinking  was  over ; 
it  was  noon  when  the  two  little  savages  had 
found  their  way  to  the  cliff  brow  that  overhung 
the  bears'  cave.  And  all  the  long  afternoon 
they  fought  desperately  with  a  great  boulder 
of  chalk;  trundling  it,  with  nothing  but  their 
unaided  sturdy  muscles,  from  the  gully  where 
it  had  hung  like  a  loose  tooth,  towards  the  cliff 
top.  It  was  full  two  yards  about,  it  stood  as 
high  as  Eudena's  waist,  it  was  obtuse-angled 
and  toothed  with  flints.  And  when  the  sun  set 
it  was  poised,  three  inches  from  the  edge,  above 
the  cave  of  the  great  cave  bear. 

In  the  cave  conversation  languished  during 
that  afternoon.  The  she-bear  snoozed  sulkily 
in  her  corner — for  she  was  fond  of  pig  and 
monkey — and  Andoo  was  bu^y  licking  the  side 
of  his  paw  and  smearing  his  face  to  cool  the 
smart  and  inflammation  of  hu  wounds.  After- 
wards he  went  and  sat  just  within  the  mouth 


I04  Time  and  Space* 


of  the  cave,  blinking  out  at  the  afternoon  sun 
with  his  uninjured  eye,  and  thinking. 

"I  never  was  so  startled  in  my  life,"  he  said 
at  last.  "They  are  the  most  extraordinary 
beasts.    Attacking  me!^^ 

''I  don't  like  them,"  said  the  she-bear,  out  of 
the  darkness  behind. 

''A  feebler  sort  of  beast  I  never  saw.  I  can't 
think  what  the  world  is  coming  to.  Scraggy, 
weedy  legs.  .  .  .  Wonder  how  they 
keep  warm  in  winter  ?" 

''Very  likely  they  don't,"  said  the  she-bear. 

"I  suppose  it's  a  sort  of  monkey  gone 
wrong." 

''It's  a  change,"  said  the  she-bear. 
A  pause. 

"The  advantage  he  had  was  merely  acci- 
dental," said  Andoo.  "These  things  will  hap- 
pen at  times." 

"/  can't  understand  why  you  let  go,"  said 
the  she-bear. 

That  matter  had  been  discussed  before,  and 
settled.  So  Andoo,  being  a  bear  of  experience, 
remained  silent  for  a  space.  Then  he  resumed 
upon  a  different  aspect  of  the  matter.  "He  has 
a  sort  of  claw — a  long  claw  that  he  seemed  to 
have  first  on  one  paw  and  then  on  the  other. 
Just  one  claw.    They're  very  odd  things.  The 


A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age  105 


bright  thing,  too,  they  seemed  to  have — like 
that  glare  that  comes  in  the  sky  in  daytime — 
only  it  jumps  about — it's  really  worth  seeing. 
It's  a  thing  with  a  root,  too — like  grass  when  it 
is  windy." 

''Does  it  bite?"  asked  the  she-bear.  "If  it 
bites  it  can't  be  a  plant." 

''No  1  don't  know,"  said  Andoo.  "But 

it's  curious,  anyhow." 

"I  wonder  if  they  are  good  eating?"  said  the 
she-bear. 

"They  look  it,"  said  Andoo,  with  appetite — 
for  the  cave  bear,  like  the  polar  bear,  was  an 
incurable  carnivore —  no  roots  or  honey  for 
him. 

The  two  bears  fell  into  a  meditation  for  a 
space.  Then  Andoo  resumed  his  simple  at- 
tentions to  his  eye.  The  sunlight  up  the  green 
slope  before  the  cave  mouth  grew  warmer  in 
tone  and  warmer,  until  it  was  a  ruddy  amber, 

"Curious  sort  of  thing — day,"  said  the  cave 
bear.  "Lot  too  much  of  it,  I  think.  Quite  un- 
suitable for  hunting.  Dazzles  me  always.  I 
can't  smell  nearly  so  well  by  day." 

The  she-bear  did  not  answer,  but  there  came 
a  measured  crunching  sound  out  of  the  dark- 
ness. She  had  turned  up  a  bone.  Andoo 
yawned.   "Well,"  he  said.    He  strolled  to  the 


io6  Time  and  Space 

cave  mouth  and  stood  with  his  head  projecting, 
surveying  the  amphitheatre.  He  found  he  had 
to  turn  his  head  completely  round  to  see  objects 
on  his  right-hand  side.  No  doubt  that  eye 
would  be  all  right  to-morrow. 

He  yawned  again.  There  was  a  tap  over- 
head, and  a  big  mass  of  chalk  flew  out  from  the 
cliff  face,  dropped  a  yard  in  front  of  his  nose, 
and  starred  into  a  dozen  unequal  fragments.  It 
startled  him  extremely. 

When  he  had  recovered  a  little  from  his 
shock,  he  went  and  snififed  curiously  at  the  rep- 
resentative pieces  of  the  fallen  projectile.  They 
had  a  distinctive  flavour,  oddly  reminiscent  of 
the  two  drab  animals  of  the  ledge.  He  sat  up 
and  pawed  the  larger  lump,  and  walked  round 
it  several  times,  trying  to  find  a  man  about  it 
somewhere.    .    .  . 

When  night  had  come  he  went  off  down  the 
river  gorge  to  see  if  he  could  cut  off  either  of 
the  ledge's  occupants.  The  ledge  was  empty, 
there  were  no  signs  of  the  red  thing,  but  as  he 
was  rather  hungry  he  did  not  loiter  long  that 
night,  but  pushed  on  to  pick  up  a  red  deer 
fawn.  He  forgot  about  the  drab  animals.  He 
found  a  fawn,  but  the  doe  was  close  by  and 
made  an  ugly  fight  for  her  young.  Andoo  had 
to  leave  the  fawn,  but  as  her  blood  was  up  she 


A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age  107 

stuck  to  the  attack,  and  at  last  he  got  in  a  blow 
of  his  paw  on  her  nose,  and  so  got  hold  of  her. 
More  meat  but  less  delicacy,  and  the  she-bear, 
following,  had  her  share.  The  next  afternoon, 
curiously  enough,  the  very  fellow  of  the  first 
white  rock  fell,  and  smashed  precisely  accord- 
ing to  precedent. 

The  aim  of  the  third,  that  fell  the  night  after, 
however,  was  better.  It  hit  Andoo's  unspecu- 
lative  skull  with  a  crack  that  echoed  up  the  ' 
cliff,  and  the  white  fragments  went  dancing  to 
all  the  points  of  the  compass.  The  she-bear 
coming  after  him  and  sniffing  curiously  at  him, 
found  him  lying  in  an  odd  sort  of  attitude,  with 
his  head  wet  and  all  out  of  shape.  She  was  a 
young  she-bear,  and  inexperienced,  and  having 
sniffed  about  him  for  some  time  and  licked  him 
a  little,  and  so  forth,  she  decided  to  leave  him 
until  the  odd  mood  had  passed,  and  went  on 
her  hunting  alone. 

She  looked  up  the  fawn  of  the  red  doe  they 
had  killed  two  nights  ago,  and  found  it.  But  it 
was  lonely  hunting  without  Andoo,  and  she  re- 
turned caveward  before  dawn.  The  sky  was 
grey  and  overcast,  the  trees  up  the  gorge  were 
black  and  unfamiliar,  and  into  her  ursine  mind 
came  a  dim  sense  of  strange  and  dreary  hap- 
penings.   She  lifted  up  her  voice  and  called 


io8  Time  and  Space 


Andoo  by  name.  The  sides  of  the  gorge  re- 
echoed her. 

As  she  approached  the  caves  she  saw  in  the 
half  Hght,  and  heard  a  couple  of  jackals  scuttle 
off,  and  immediately  after  a  hyaena  howled  and 
a  dozen  clumsy  bulks  went  lumbering  up  the 
slope,  and  stopped  and  yelled  derision.  "Lord 
of  the  rocks  and  caves — ya-ha!"  came  down 
the  wind.  The  dismal  feeling  in  the  she-bear's 
mind  became  suddenly  acute.  She  shuffled 
across  the  amphitheatre. 

'*Ya-ha said  the  hyaenas,  retreating.  "Ya- 
ha !" 

The  cave  bear  was  not  lying  quite  in  the 
same  attitude,  because  the  hyaenas  had  been 
busy,  and  in  one  place  his  ribs  showed  white. 
Dotted  over  the  turf  about  him  lay  the  smashed 
fragments  of  the  three  great  lumps  of  chalk. 
And  the  air  was  full  of  the  scent  of  death. 

The  she-bear  stopped  dead.  Even  now,  that 
the  great  and  wonderful  Andoo  was  killed  was 
beyond  her  believing.  Then  she  heard  far 
overhead  a  sound,  a  queer  sound,  a  little  like 
the  shout  of  a  hyaena  but  fuller  and  lower  in 
pitch.  She  looked  up,  her  little  dawn-blinded 
eyes  seeing  little,  her  nostrils  quivering.  And 
there,  on  the  cliff  edge,  far  above  her  against 
the  bright  pink  of  dawn,  were  two  little  shaggy 


A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age  109 


round  dark  things,  the  heads  of  Eudena  and 
Ugh-lomi,  as  they  shouted  derision  at  her.  But 
though  she  could  not  see  them  very  distinctly 
she  could  hear,  and  dimly  she  began  to  appre- 
hend. A  novel  feeling  as  of  imminent  strange 
evils  came  into  her  heart. 

She  began  to  examine  the  smashed  frag- 
ments of  chalk  that  lay  about  Andoo.  For  a 
space  she  stood  still,  looking  about  her  and 
making  a  low  continuous  sound  that  was  al- 
most a  moan.  Then  she  went  back  incredu- 
lously to  Andoo  to  make  one  last  effort  to  rouse 
him. 

Ill  THE  FIRST  HORSEMAN 

In  the  days  before  Ugh-lomi  there  was  little 
trouble  between  the  horses  and  men.  They 
lived  apart — the  men  in  the  river  swamps  and 
thickets,  the  horses  on  the  wide  grassy  uplands 
between  the  chestnuts  and  the  pines.  Some- 
times a  pony  would  come  straying  into  the 
clogging  marshes  to  make  a  flint-hacked  meal, 
and  sometimes  the  tribe  would  find  one,  the  kill 
of  a  lion,  and  drive  ofif  the  jackals,  and  feast 
heartily  while  the  sun  was  high.  These  horses 
of  the  old  time  were  clumsy  at  the  fetlock  and 
dun-coloured,  with  a  rough  tail  and  big  head. 
They  came  every  spring-time  north-westward 
into  the  country,  after  the  swallows  and  before 


no  Time  and  Space 


the  hippopotami,  as  the  grass  on  the  wide 
downland  stretches  grew  long.  They  came 
only  in  small  bodies  thus  far,  each  herd,  a  stal- 
lion and  two  or  three  mares  and  a  foal  or  so, 
having  its  own  stretch  of  country,  and  they 
went  again  when  the  chestnut-trees  were  yel- 
low and  the  wolves  came  down  the  Wealden 
mountains. 

It  was  their  custom  to  graze  right  out  in  the 
open,  going  into  cover  only  in  the  heat  of  the 
day.  They  avoided  the  long  stretches  of  thorn 
and  beechwood,  preferring  an  isloated  group 
of  trees  void  of  ambuscade,  so  that  it  was  hard 
to  come  upon  them.  They  were  never  fighters ; 
their  heels  and  teeth  were  for  one  another,  but 
in  the  clear  country,  once  they  were  started,  no 
living  thing  came  near  them,  though  perhaps 
the  elephant  might  have  done  so  had  he  felt 
the  need.  And  in  those  days  man  seemed  a 
harmless  thing  enough.  No  whisper  of  pro- 
phetic intelligence  told  the  species  of  the  ter- 
rible slavery  that  was  to  come,  of  the  whip  and 
spur  and  bearing-rein,  the  clumsy  load  and  the 
slippery  street,  the  insufficient  food,  and  the 
knacker's  yard,  that  was  to  replace  the  wide 
grass-land  and  the  freedom  of  the  earth. 

Down  in  the  Wey  marshes  Ugh-lomi  and 
Eudena  had  never  seen  the  horses  closely,  but 


A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age     1 1 1 

now  they  saw  them  every  day  as  the  two  of 
them  raided  out  from  their  lair  on  the  ledge  in 
the  gorge,  raiding  together  in  search  of  food. 
They  had  returned  to  the  ledge  after  the  kill- 
ing of  Andoo;  for  of  the  she-bear  they  were 
not  afraid.  The  she-bear  had  become  afraid 
of  them,  and  when  she  winded  them  she  went 
aside.  The  two  went  together  everywhere; 
for  since  they  had  left  the  tribe  Eudena  was 
not  so  much  Ugh-lomi's  woman  as  his  mate; 
she  learnt  to  hunt  even — as  much,  that  is,  as 
any  woman  could.  She  was  indeed  a  marvel- 
lous woman.  He  would  lie  for  hours  watching 
a  beast,  or  planning  catches  in  that  shock  head 
of  his,  and  she  would  stay  beside  him,  with  her 
bright  eyes  upon  him,  offering  no  irritating 
suggestions — as  still  as  any  man.  A  wonder- 
ful woman! 

At  the  top  of  the  cliff  was  an  open  grassy 
lawn  and  then  beechwoods,  and  going  through 
'the  beechwoods  one  came  to  the  edge  of  the 
rolling  grassy  expanse,  and  in  sight  of  the 
horses.  Here,  on  the  edge  of  the  wood  and 
bracken,  were  the  rabbit-burrows,  and  here 
among  the  fronds  Eudena  and  Ugh-lomi 
would  lie  with  their  throwing-stones  ready,  un- 
til the  little  people  came  out  to  nibble  and  play 
in  the  sunset.   And  while  Eudena  would  sit,  a 


112 


Time  and  Space 


silent  figure  of  watchfulness,  regarding  the 
burrows,  Ugh-lomi's  eyes  were  ever  away 
across  the  greensward  at  those  wonderful  graz- 
ing strangers. 

In  a  dim  way  he  appreciated  their  grace  and 
their  supple  nimbleness.  As  the  sun  declined 
in  the  evening-time,  and  the  heat  of  the  day 
passed,  they  would  become  active,  would  start 
chasing  one  another,  neighing,  dodging,  shak- 
ing their  manes,  coming  round  in  great  curves, 
sometimes  so  close  that  the  pounding  of  the 
turf  sounded  like  hurried  thunder.  It  looked 
so  fine  that  Ugh-lomi  wanted  to  join  in  badly. 
And  sometimes  one  would  roll  over  on  the  turf, 
kicking  four  hoofs  heavenward,  which  seemed 
formidable  and  was  certainly  much  less  allur- 
ing. 

Dim  imaginings  ran  through  Ugh-lomi's 
mind  as  he  watched — by  virtue  of  which  two 
rabbits  lived  the  longer.  And  sleeping,  his 
brains  were  clearer  and  bolder — for  that  was 
the  way  in  those  days.  He  came  near  the 
horses,  he  dreamt,  and  fought,  smiting-stone 
against  hoof,  but  then  the  horses  changed  to 
men,  or,  at  least,  to  men  with  horses'  heads, 
and  he  awoke  in  a  cold  sweat  of  terror. 

Yet  the  next  day  in  the  morning,  as  the 
horses  were  grazing,  one  of  the  mares  whin- 


A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age  113 

nied,  and  they  saw  Ugh-lomi  coming  up  the 
wind.  They  all  stopped  their  eating  and 
watched  him.  Ugh-lomi  was  not  coming  to- 
wards them,  but  strolling  obliquely  across  the 
open,  looking  at  anything  in  the  world  but 
horses.  He  had  stuck  three  fern-fronds  into 
the  mat  of  his  hair,  giving  him  a  remarkable 
appearance,  and  he  walked  very  slowly. 
''What's  up  now?''  said  the  Master  Horse,  who 
was  capable,  but  inexperienced. 

"It  looks  more  like  the  first  half  of  an  ani- 
mal than  anything  else  in  the  world,"  he  said. 
''Fore-legs  and  no  hind." 

"It's  only  one  of  those  pink  monkey  things," 
said  the  Eldest  Mare.  "They're  a  sort  of  river 
monkey.  They're  quite  common  on  the 
plains." 

Ugh-lomi  continued  his  oblique  advance. 
The  Eldest  Mare  was  struck  with  the  want  of 
motive  in  his  proceedings. 

"Fool!"  said  the  Eldest  Mare,  in  a  quick 
conclusive  way  she  had.  She  resumed  her 
grazing.  The  Master  Horse  and  the  Second 
Mare  followed  suit. 

"Look!  he's  nearer,"  said  the  Foal  with  a 
stripe. 

One  of  the  younger  foals  made  uneasy  move- 
ments.   Ugh-lomi  squatted  down,  and  sat  re- 

H 


114  Time  and  Space 


garding  the  horses  fixedly.  In  a  little  while  he 
was  satisfied  that  they  meant  neither  flight  nor 
hostilities.  He  began  to  consider  his  next  pro- 
cedure. He  did  not  feel  anxious  to  kill,  but 
he  had  his  axe  with  him,  and  the  spirit  of  sport 
was  upon  him.  How  would  one  kill  one  of 
these  creatures  ? — these  great  beautiful  crea- 
tures ! 

Eudena,  watching  him  with  a  fearful  ad- 
miration from  the  cover  of  the  bracken,  saw 
him  presently  go  on  all  fours,  and  so  proceed 
again.  But  the  horses  preferred  him  a  biped 
to  a  quadruped,  and  the  Master  Horse  threw 
up  his  head  and  gave  the  word  to  move.  Ugh- 
lomi  thought  they  were  off  for  good,  but  after 
a  minute's  gallop  they  came  round  in  a  wide 
curve,  and  stood  winding  him.  Then,  as  a 
rise  in  the  ground  hid  him,  they  tailed  out,  the 
Master  Horse  leading,  and  approached  him 
spirally. 

He  was  as  ignorant  of  the  possibilities  of  a 
horse  as  they  were  of  his.  And  at  this  stage 
it  would  seem  he  funked.  He  knew  this  kind 
of  stalking  would  make  red  deer  or  buffalo 
charge,  if  it  were  persisted  in.  At  any  rate 
Eudena  saw  him  jump  up  and  come  walking 
towards  her  with  the  fern  plumes  held  in  his 
hand. 


A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age     1 1 5 


She  stood  up,  and  he  grinned  to  show  that 
the  whole  thing  was  an  immense  lark,  and  that 
what  he  had  done  was  just  what  he  had 
planned  to  do  from  the  very  beginning.  So 
that  incident  ended.  But  he  was  very  thought- 
ful all  that  day. 

The  next  day  this  foolish  drab  creature  with 
the  leonine  mane,  instead  of  going  about  the 
grazing  or  hunting  he  was  made  for,  was 
prowling  round  the  horses  again.  The  Eldest 
Mare  was  all  for  silent  contempt.  'T  suppose 
he  wants  to  learn  something  from  us,''  she  said, 
and  "Let  him."  The  next  day  he  was  at  it 
again.  The  Master  Horse  decided  he  meant 
absolutely  nothing.  But  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
Ugh-lomi,  the  first  of  men  to  feel  that  curious 
spell  of  the  horse  that  binds  us  even  to  this  day, 
meant  a  great  deal.  He  admired  them  unre- 
servedly. There  was  a  rudiment  of  the  snob 
in  him,  I  am  afraid,  and  he  wanted  to  be  near 
these  beautifully-curved  animals.  Then  there 
were  vague  conceptions  of  a  kill.  If  only  they 
would  let  him  come  near  them !  But  they  drew 
the  line,  he  found,  at  fifty  yards.  If  he  came 
nearer  than  that  they  moved  ofif — with  dignity. 
I  suppose  it  was  the  way  he  had  blinded  Andoo 
that  made  him  think  of  leaping  on  the  back  of 
one  of  them.    But  though  Eudena  after  a  time 


1 1 6  Time  and  Space 


came  out  in  the  open  too,  and  they  did  some  un- 
obtrusive stalking,  things  stopped  there. 

Then  one  memorable  day  a  new  idea  came  to 
Ugh-lomi.  The  horse  looks  down  and  level, 
but  he  does  not  look  up.  No  animals  look  up 
— they  have  too  much  common-sense.  It  was 
only  that  fantastic  creature,  man,  could  waste 
his  wits  skyward.  Ugh-lomi  made  no  philoso- 
phical deductions,  but  he  perceived  the  thing 
was  so.  So  he  spent  a  weary  day  in  a  beech 
that  stood  in  the  open,  while  Eudena  stalked. 
Usually  the  horses  went  into  the  shade  in  the 
heat  of  the  afternoon,  but  that  day  the  sky  was 
overcast,  and  they  would  not,  in  spite  of 
Eudena's  solicitude. 

It  was  two  days  after  that  that  Ugh-lomi 
had  his  desire.  The  day  was  blazing  hot,  and 
the  multiplying  flies  asserted  themselves.  The 
horses  stopped  grazing  before  mid-day,  and 
came  into  the  shadow  below  him,  and  stood  in 
couples  nose  to  tail,  flapping. 

The  Master  Horse,  by  virtue  of  his  heels, 
came  closest  to  the  tree.  And  suddenly  there 
was  a  rustle  and  a  creak,  a  thud,  .  .  . 
Then  a  sharp  chipped  flint  bit  him  on  the  cheek. 
The  Master  Horse  stumbled,  came  on  one  knee, 
rose  to  his  feet,  and  was  of¥  like  the  wind.  The 
air  was  full  of  the  whirl  of  limbs,  the  prance 


A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age  117 

of  hoofs,  and  snorts  of  alarm.  Ugh-lomi  was 
pitched  a  foot  in  the  air,  came  down  again,  up 
again,  his  stomach  was  hit  violently,  and  then 
his  knees  got  a  grip  of  something  between 
them.  He  found  himself  clutching  with  knees, 
feet,  and  hands,  careering  violently  with  extra- 
ordinary oscillation  through  the  air — his  axe 
gone  heaven  knows  whither.  ''Hold  tight,'' 
said  Mother  Instinct,  and  he  did. 

He  was  aware  of  a  lot  of  coarse  hair  in  his 
face,  some  of  it  between  his  teeth,  and  of  green 
turf  streaming  past  in  front  of  his  eyes.  He 
saw  the  shoulder  of  the  Master  Horse,  vast  and 
sleek,  with  the  muscles  flowing  swiftly  under 
the  skin.  He  perceived  that  his  arms  were 
round  the  neck,  and  that  the  violent  jerkings 
he  experienced  had  a  sort  of  rhythm. 

Then  he  was  in  the  midst  of  a  wild  rush  of 
tree-stems,  and  then  there  were  fronds  of 
bracken  about,  and  then  more  open  turf.  Then 
a  stream  of  pebbles  rushing  past,  little  pebbles 
flying  sideways  athwart  the  stream  from  the 
blow  of  the  swift  hoofs.  Ugh-lomi  began  to 
feel  frightfully  sick  and  giddy,  but  he  was  not 
the  stufT  to  leave  go  simply  because  he  was  un- 
comfortable. 

He  dared  not  leave  his  grip,  but  he  tried  to 
make  himself  more  comfortable.    He  released 


1 1 8  Time  and  Space 


his  hug  on  the  neck,  gripping  the  mane  instead. 
He  sHpped  his  knees  forward,  and  pushing 
back,  came  into  a  sitting  position  where  the 
quarters  broaden.  It  was  nervous  work,  but  he 
managed  it,  and  at  last  he  was  fairly  seated 
astride,  breathless  indeed,  and  uncertain,  but 
with  that  frightful  pounding  of  his  body  at  any 
rate  relieved. 

Slowly  the  fragments  of  Ugh-lomi's  mind 
got  into  order  again.  The  pace  seemed  to  him 
terrific,  but  a  kind  of  exultation  was  beginning 
to  oust  his  first  frantic  terror.  The  air  rushed 
by,  sweet  and  wonderful,  the  rhythm  of  the 
hoofs  changed  and  broke  up  and  returned  into 
itself  again.  They  were  on  turf  now,  a  wide 
glade — the  beech-trees  a  hundred  yards  away 
on  either  side,  and  a  succulent  band  of  green 
starred  with  pink  blossom  and  shot  with  silver 
water  here  and  there,  meandered  down  the 
middle.  Far  off  was  a  glimpse  of  blue  valley — 
far  away.  The  exultation  grew.  It  was  man's 
first  taste  of  pace. 

Then  came  a  wide  space  dappled  with  flying 
fallow  deer  scattering  this  way  and  that,  and 
then  a  couple  of  jackals,  mistaking  Ugh-lomi 
for  a  lion,  came  hurrying  after  him.  And  when 
they  saw  it  was  not  a  lion  they  still  came  on 
out  of  curiosity.    On  galloped  the  horse,  with 


A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age  119 

his  one  idea  of  escape,  and  after  him  the  jack- 
als, with  pricked  ears  and  quickly-barked  re- 
marks. ''Which  kills  which?''  said  the  first 
jackal.  "It's  the  horse  being  killed/'  said  the 
second.  They  gave  the  howl  of  following,  and 
the  horse  answered  to  it  as  a  horse  answers 
nowadays  to  the  spur. 

On  they  rushed,  a  little  tornado  through  the 
quiet  day,  putting  up  startled  birds,  sending  a 
dozen  unexpected  things  darting  to  cover,  rais- 
ing a  myriad  of  indignant  dung-flies,  smashing 
little  blossoms,  flowering  complacently,  back 
into  their  parental  turf.  Trees  again,  and  then 
splash,  splash  across  a  torrent ;  then  a  hare  shot 
out  of  a  tuft  of  grass  under  the  very  hoofs  of 
the  Master  Horse,  and  the  jackals  left  them  in- 
continently. So  presently  they  broke  into  the 
open  again,  a  wide  expanse  of  turfy  hillside — 
the  very  grassy  downs  that  fall  northward  now- 
adays from  the  Epsom  Stand. 

The  first  hot  bolt  of  the  Master  Horse  was 
long  since  over.  He  was  falling  into  a  meas- 
ured trot,  and  Ugh-lomi,  albeit  bruised  exceed- 
ingly and  quite  uncertain  of  the  future,  was  in 
a  state  of  glorious  enjoyment.  And  now  came 
a  new  development.  The  pace  broke  again,  the 
Master  Horse  came  round  on  a  short  curve, 
and  stopped  dead.    .    .  . 


120 


Time  and  Space 


Ugh-lomi  became  alert.  He  wished  he  had 
a  flint,  but  the  throwing  flint  he  had  carried  in 
a  thong  about  his  waist  was — Hke  the  axe — 
heaven  knows  where.  The  Master  Horse 
turned  his  head,  and  Ugh-lomi  became  aware  of 
an  eye  and  teeth.  He  whipped  his  leg  into  a 
position  of  security,  and  hit  at  the  cheek  with 
his  fist.  Then  the  head  went  down  somewhere 
out  of  existence  apparently,  and  the  back  he 
was  sitting  on  flew  up  into  a  dome.  Ugh-lomi 
became  a  thing  of  instinct  again — strictly  pre- 
hensile ;  he  held  by  knees  and  feet,  and  his  head 
seemed  sliding  towards  the  turf.  His  fingers 
were  twisted  into  the  shock  of  mane,  and  the 
rough  hair  of  the  horse  saved  him.  The 
gradient  he  was  on  lowered  again,  and  then — 
''Whup!''  said  Ugh-lomi  astonished,  and  the 
slant  was  the  other  way  up.  But  Ugh-lomi 
was  a  thousand  generations  nearer  the  primor- 
dial than  man :  no  monkey  could  have  held  on 
better.  And  the  lion  had  been  training  the 
horse  for  countless  generations  against  the  tac- 
tics of  rolling  and  rearing  back.  But  he  kicked 
like  a  master,  and  buck- jumped  rather  neatly. 
In  five  minutes  Ugh-lomi  liyed  a  lifetime.  If 
he  came  of?  the  horse  would  kill  him,  he  felt 
assured. 

Then  the  Master  Horse  decided  to  stick  to 


A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age  121 

his  old  tactics  again,  and  suddenly  went  off  at 
a  gallop.  He  headed  down  the  slope,  taking 
the  steep  places  at  a  rush,  swerving  neither  to 
the  right  nor  to  the  left,  and,  as  they  rode 
down,  the  wide  expanse  of  valley  sank  out  of 
sight  behind  the  approaching  skirmishers  of 
oak  and  hawthorn.  They  skirted  a  sudden  hol- 
low with  the  pool  of  a  spring,  rank  weeds  and 
silver  bushes.  The  ground  grew  softer  and  the 
grass  taller,  and  on  the  right-hand  side  and  the 
left  came  scattered  bushes  of  May — still 
splashed  with  belated  blossom.  Presently  the 
bushes  thickened  until  they  lashed  the  passing 
rider,  and  little  flashes  and  gouts  of  blood  came 
out  on  horse  and  man.  Then  the  way  opened 
again. 

And  then  came  a  wonderful  adventure.  A 
sudden  squeal  of  unreasonable  anger  rose 
amidst  the  bushes,  the  squeal  of  some  creature 
bitterly  wronged.  And  crashing  after  them  ap- 
peared a  big,  grey-blue  shape.  It  was  Yaaa  the 
big-horned  rhinoceros,  in  one  of  those  fits  of 
fury  of  his,  charging  full  tilt,  after  the  manner 
of  his  kind.  He  had  been  startled  at  his  feed- 
ing, and  someone,  it  did  not  matter  who,  was 
to  be  ripped  and  trampled  therefore.  He  was 
bearing  down  on  them  from  the  left,  with  his 
wicked  little  eye  red,  his  great  horn  down  and 


122  Time  and  Space 


his  tail  like  a  jury-mast  behind  him.  For  a 
minute  Ugh-lomi  was  minded  to  slip  off  and 
dodge,  and  then  behold!  the  staccato  of  the 
hoofs  grew  swifter,  and  the  rhinoceros  and  his 
stumpy  hurrying  little  legs  seemed  to  slide  out 
at  the  back  corner  of  Ugh-lomi's  eye.  In  two 
minutes  they  were  through  the  bushes  of  May, 
and  out  in  the  open,  going  fast.  For  a  space  he 
could  hear  the  ponderous  paces  in  pursuit  re- 
ceding behind  him,  and  then  it  was  just  as  if 
Yaaa  had  not  lost  his  temper,  as  if  Yaaa  had 
never  existed. 

The  pace  never  faltered,  on  they  rode  and 
on. 

Ugh-lomi  was  now  all  exultation.  To  exult 
in  those  days  was  to  insult.  ''Ya-ha !  big  nose !" 
he  said,  trying  to  crane  back  and  see  some  re- 
mote speck  of  a  pursuer.  "Why  don't  you 
carry  your  smiting-stone  in  your  fist?'"  he 
ended  with  a  frantic  whoop. 

But  that  whoop  was  unfortunate,  for  coming 
close  to  the  ear  of  the  horse,  and  being  quite 
unexpected,  it  startled  the  stallion  extremely. 
He  shied  violently.  Ugh-lomi  suddenly  found 
himself  uncomfortable  again.  He  was  hang- 
ing on  to  the  horse,  he  found,  by  one  arm  and 
one  knee. 

The  rest  of  the  ride  was  honourable  but  un- 


A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age  123 


pleasant.  The  view  was  chiefly  of  blue  sky, 
and  that  was  combined  with  the  most  unpleas- 
ant physical  sensations.  Finally,  a  bush  of 
thorn  lashed  him  and  he  let  go. 

He  hit  the  ground  with  his  cheek  and  shoul- 
der, and  then,  after  a  complicated  and  extra- 
ordinarily rapid  movement,  hit  it  again  with  the 
end  of  his  backbone.  He  saw  splashes  and 
sparks  of  light  and  colour.  The  ground  seemed 
bouncing  about  just  like  the  horse  had  done. 
Then  he  found  he  was  sitting  on  turf^  six  yards 
beyond  the  bush.  In  front  of  him  was  a  space 
of  grass,  growing  greener  and  greener,  and  a 
number  of  human  beings  in  the  distance,  and 
the  horse  was  going  round  at  a  smart  gallop 
quite  a  long  way  off  to  the  right. 

The  human  beings  were  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  river,  some  still  in  the  water,  but  they 
were  all  running  away  as  hard  as  they  could 
go.  The  advent  of  a  monster  that  took  to 
pieces  was  not  the  sort  of  novelty  they  cared 
for.  For  quite  a  minute  Ugh-lomi  sat  regard- 
ing them  in  a  purely  spectacular  spirit.  The 
bend  of  the  river,  the  knoll  among  the  reeds 
and  royal  ferns,  the  thin  streams  of  smoke  go- 
ing up  to  Heaven,  were  all  perfectly  familiar  to 
him.  It  was  the  squatting-place  of  the  Sons  of 
Uya,  of  Uya  from  whom  he  had  fled  with 


124  Time  and  Space 


Eudena,  and  whom  he  had  waylaid  in  the 
chestnut  woods  and  killed  with  the  First  Axe. 

He  rose  to  his  feet,  still  dazed  from  his  fall, 
and  as  he  did  so  the  scattering  fugitives  turned 
and  regarded  him.  Some  pointed  to  the  re- 
ceding horse  and  chattered.  He  walked  slowly 
towards  them,  staring.  He  forgot  the  horse, 
he  forgot  his  own  bruises,  in  the  growing  in- 
terest of  this  encounter.  There  were  fewer  of 
them  than  there  had  been— he  supposed  the 
others  must  have  hid — the  heap  of  fern  for  the 
night  fire  was  not  so  high.  By  the  flint  heaps 
should  have  sat  Wau — but  then  he  remembered 
he  had  killed  Wau.  Suddenly  brought  back  to 
this  familiar  scene,  the  gorge  and  the  bears  and 
Eudena  seemed  things  remote,  things  dreamt 
of. 

He  stopped  at  the  bank  and  stood  regarding 
the  tribe.  His  mathematical  abilities  were  of 
the  slightest,  but  it  was  certain  there  were 
fewer.  The  men  might  be  away,  but  there  were 
fewer  women  and  children.  He  gave  the  shout 
of  home-coming.  His  quarrel  had  been  with 
Uya  and  Wau — not  with  the  others.  ''Chil- 
dren of  Uya !"  he  cried.  They  answered  with 
his  name,  a  little  fearfully  because  of  the 
strange  way  he  had  come. 

For  a  space  they  spoke  together.    Then  an 


A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age  125 


old  woman  lifted  a  shrill  voice  and  answered 
him.   *'Our  Lord  is  a  Lion/' 

Ugh-lomi  did  not  understand  that  saying. 
They  answered  him  again  several  together, 
^^Uya  comes  again.  He  comes  as  a  Lion.  Our 
Lord  is  a  Lion.  He  comes  at  night.  He  slays 
whom  he  will.  But  none  other  may  slay  us, 
Ugh-lomi,  none  other  may  slay  us." 

Still  Ugh-lomi  did  not  understand. 

*'Our  Lord  is  a  Lion.  He  speaks  no  more 
to  men." 

Ugh-lomi  stood  regarding  them.  He  had 
had  dreams — he  knew  that  though  he  had 
killed  Uya,  Uya  still  existed.  And  now  they 
told  him  Uya  was  a  Lion. 

The  shrivelled  old  woman,  the  mistress  of 
the  fire-minders,  suddenly  turned  and  spoke 
softly  to  those  next  to  her.  She  was  a  very  old 
woman  indeed,  she  had  been  the  first  of  Uya's 
wives,  and  he  had  let  her  live  beyond  the  age 
to  which  it  is  seemly  a  woman  should  be  per- 
mitted to  live.  She  had  been  cunning  from  the 
first,  cunning  to  please  Uya  and  to  get  food. 
And  now  she  was  great  in  counsel.  She  spoke 
softly,  and  Ugh-lomi  watched  her  shrivelled 
form  across  the  river  with  a  curious  distaste. 
Then  she  called  aloud,  ^^Come  over  to  us,  Ugh- 
lomi." 


126  Time  and  Space 


A  girl  suddenly  lifted  up  her  voice.  "Come 
over  to  us,  Ugh-lomi/'  she  said.  And  they  all 
began  crying,  "Come  over  to  us,  Ugh-lomi.'' 

It  v^as  strange  how  their  manner  changed 
after  the  old  woman  called. 

He  stood  quite  still  watching  them  all.  It 
was  pleasant  to  be  called,  and  the  girl  who  had 
called  first  was  a  pretty  one.  But  she  made 
him  think  of  Eudena. 

"Come  over  to  us,  Ugh-lomi, they  cried, 
and  the  voice  of  the  shrivelled  old  woman  rose 
above  them  all.  At  the  sound  of  her  voice  his 
hesitation  returned. 

He  stood  on  the  river  bank,  Ugh-lomi — Ugh 
the  Thinker — with  his  thoughts  slowly  taking 
shape.  Presently  one  and  then  another  paused 
to  see  what  he  would  do.  He  was  minded  to 
go  back,  he  was  minded  not  to.  Suddenly  his 
fear  or  his  caution  got  the  upper  hand.  With- 
out answering  them  he  turned,  and  walked 
back  towards  the  distant  thorn-trees,  the  way 
he  had  come.  Forthwith  the  whole  tribe 
started  crying  to  him  again  very  eagerly.  He 
hesitated  and  turned,  then  he  went  on,  then  he 
turned  again,  and  then  once  again,  regarding 
them  with  troubled  eyes  as  they  called.  The 
last  time  he  took  two  paces  back,  before  his 
fear  stopped  him.    They  saw  him  stop  once 


A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age     1 27 


more,  and  suddenly  shake  his  head  and  vanish 
among  the  hawthorn-trees. 

Then  all  the  women  and  children  lifted  up 
their  voices  together,  and  called  to  him  in  one 
last  vain  effort. 

-  Far  down  the  river  the  reeds  were  stirring 
in  the  breeze,  where,  convenient  for  his  new 
sort  of  feeding,  the  old  lion,  who  had  taken  to 
man-eating,  had  made  his  lair. 

The  old  woman  turned  her  face  that  way, 
and  pointed  to  the  hawthorn  thickets.  "Uya,'' 
she  screamed,  "there  goes  thine  enemy !  There 
goes  thine  enemy,  Uya!  Why  do  you  devour 
us  nightly?  We  have  tried  to  snare  him! 
There  goes  thine  enemy,  Uya  V 

But  the  lion  who  preyed  upon  the  tribe  was 
taking  his  siesta.  The  cry  went  unheard.  That 
day  he  had  dined  on  one  of  the  plumper  girls, 
and  his  mood  was  a  comfortable  placidity.  He 
really  did  not  understand  that  he  was  Uya  or 
that  Ugh-lomi  was  his  enemy. 

So  it  was  that  Ugh-lomi  rode  the  horse,  and 
heard  first  of  Uya  the  lion,  who  had  taken  the 
place  of  Uya  the  Master,  and  was  eating  up  the 
tribe.  And  as  he  hurried  back  to  the  gorge  his 
mind  was  no  longer  full  of  the  horse,  but  of  the 
thought  that  Uya  was  still  alive,  to  slay  or  be 
slain.    Over   and   over   again   he   saw  the 


128  Time  and  Space 


shrunken  band  of  women  and  children  crying 
that  Uya  was  a  Hon.   Uya  was  a  Hon ! 

And  presently,  fearing  the  twilight  might 
come  upon  him,  Ugh-lomi  began  running. 

IV  UYA  THE  LION 

The  old  lion  was  in  luck.  The  tribe  had  a 
certain  pride  in  their  ruler,  but  that  w^as  all  the 
satisfaction  they  got  out  of  it.  He  came  the 
very  night  that  Ugh-lomi  killed  Uya  the  Cun- 
ning, and  so  it  was  they  named  him  Uya.  It 
was  the  old  woman,  the  fire-minder,  who  first 
named  him  Uya.  A  shower  had  lowered  the 
fires  to  a  glow,  and  made  the  night  dark.  And 
as  they  conversed  together,  and  peered  at  one 
another  in  the  darkness,  and  wondered  fear- 
fully what  Uya  would  do  to  them  in  their 
dreams  now  that  he  was  dead,  they  heard  the 
mounting  reverberations  of  the  lion's  roar 
close  at  hand.  Then  everything  was  still. 
"  They  held  their  breath,  so  that  almost  the 
only  sounds  were  the  patter  of  the  rain  and 
the  hiss  of  the  raindrops  in  the  ashes.  And 
then,  after  an  interminable  time,  a  crash,  and  a 
shriek  of  fear,  and  a  growling.  They  sprang 
to  their  feet,  shouting,  screaming,  running  this 
way  and  that,  but  brands  would  not  burn,  and  - 
in  a  minute  the  victim  was  being  dragged  away 


A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age     1 29 


through  the  ferns.  It  was  Irk,  the  brother  of 
Wau. 

So  the  lion  came. 

The  ferns  were  still  wet  from  the  rain  the 
next  night,  and  he  came  and  took  Click  with 
the  red  hair.  That  sufficed  for  two  nights. 
And  then  in  the  dark  between  the  moons  he 
came  three  nights,  night  after  night,  and  that 
though  they  had  good  fires.  He  was  an  old 
lion  with  stumpy  teeth,  but  very  silent  and  very 
cool;  he  knew  of  fires  before;  these  were  not 
the  first  of  mankind  that  had  ministered  to  his 
old  age.  The  third  night  he  came  between  the 
outer  fire  and  the  inner,  and  he  leapt  the  flint 
heap,  and  pulled  down  Irm  the  son  of  Irk,  who 
had  seemed  like  to  be  the  leader.  That  was  a 
dreadful  night,  because  they  lit  great  flares  of 
fern  and  ran  screaming,  and  the  lion  missed 
his  hold  of  Irm.  By  the  glare  of  the  fire  they 
saw  Irm  struggle  up,  and  run  a  little  way  to- 
wards them,  and  then  the  lion  in  two  bounds 
had  him  down  again.  That  was  the  last  of 
Irm. 

So  fear  came,  and  all  the  delight  of  spring 
passed  out  of  their  lives.  Already  there  were 
five  gone  out  of  the  tribe,  and  four  nights 
added  three  more  to  the  number.  Food-seek- 
ing became  spiritless,  none  knew  who  might  go 

I 


130  Time  and  Space 


next,  and  all  day  the  women  toiled,  even  the 
favourite  women,  gathering  litter  and  sticks 
for  the  night  fires.  And  the  hunters  hunted 
ill :  in  the  warm  spring-time  hunger  came  again 
as  though  it  was  still  winter.  The  tribe  might 
have  moved,  had  they  had  a  leader,  but  they 
had  no  leader,  and  none  knew  where  to  go  that 
the  lion  could  not  follow  them.  So  the  old 
lion  waxed  fat  and  thanked  heaven  for  the 
kindly  race  of  men.  Two  of  the  children  and  a 
youth  died  while  the  moon  was  still  new,  and 
then  it  was  the  shrivelled  old  fire-minder  first 
bethought  herself  in  a  dream  of  Eudena  and 
Ugh-lomi,  and  of  the  way  Uya  had  been  slain. 
She  had  lived  in  fear  of  Uya  all  her  days,  and 
now  she  lived  in  fear  of  the  lion.  That  Ugh-lomi 
could  kill  Uya  for  good — Ugh-lomi  whom  she 
had  seen  born — was  impossible.  It  was  Uya 
still  seeking  his  enemy ! 

And  then  came  the  strange  return  of  Ugh- 
lomi,  a  wonderful  animal  seen  galloping  far 
across  the  river,  that  suddenly  changed  into 
two  animals,  a  horse  and  a  man.  Following 
this  portent,  the  vision  of  Ugh-lomi  on  the  far- 
ther bank  of  the  river.  .  .  .  Yes,  it  was 
all  plain  to  her.  Uya  was  punishing  them,  be- 
cause they  had  not  hunted  down  Ugh-lomi  and 
Eudena. 


A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age  131 

The  men  came  straggling  back  to  the 
chances  of  the  night  while  the  sun  was  still 
golden  in  the  sky.  They  were  received  with 
the  story  of  Ugh-lomi.  She  went  across  the 
river  with  them  and  showed  them  his  spqor 
hesitating  on  the  farther  bank.  Siss  the 
Tracker  knew  the  feet  for  Ugh-lomi's.  '*Uya 
needs  Ugh-lomi/'  cried  the  old  woman,  stand- 
ing on  the  left  of  the  bend,  a  gesticulating 
figure  of  flaring  bronze  in  the  sunset.  Her 
cries  were  strange  sounds,  flitting  to  and  fro 
on  the  borderland  of  speech,  but  this  was  the 
sense  they  carried:  ^^The  lion  needs  Eudena. 
He  comes  night  after  night  seeking  Eudena 
and  Ugh-lomi.  When  he  cannot  find  Eudena 
and  Ugh-lomi,  he  grows  angry  and  he  kills. 
Hunt  Eudena  and  Ugh-lomi,  Eudena  whom  he 
pursued,  and  Ugh-lomi  for  whom  he  gave  the 
death- word!    Hunt  Eudena  and  Ugh-lomi!" 

She  turned  to  the  distant  reed-bed,  as  some- 
times she  had  turned  to  Uya  in  his  life.  "Is  it 
not  so,  my  lord  she  cried.  And,  as  if  in  an- 
swer, the  tall  reeds  bowed  before  a  breath  of 
wind. 

Far  into  the  twilight  the  sound  of  hacking 
was  heard  from  the  squatting-places.  It  was 
the  men  sharpening  their  ashen  spears  against 
the  hunting  of  the  morrow.   And  in  the  night, 


132  Time  and  Space 


early  before  the  moon  rose,  the  lion  came  and 
took  the  girl  of  Siss  the  Tracker. 

In  the  morning  before  the  sun  had  risen,  Siss 
the  Tracker,  and  the  lad  Wau-hau,  who  now 
chipped  flints,  and  One  Eye,  and  Bo,  and  the 
snail-eater,  the  two  red-haired  men,  and  Cat's- 
skin  and  Snake,  all  the  men  that  were  left  alive 
of  the  Sons  of  Uya,  taking  their  ash  spears  and 
their  smiting-stones,  and  with  throwing  stones 
in  the  beast-paw  bags,  started  forth  upon  the 
trail  of  Ugh-lomi  through  the  hawthorn  thick- 
ets where  Yaaa  the  Rhinoceros  and  his  broth- 
ers were  feeding,  and  up  the  bare  downland  to- 
wards the  beechwoods. 

That  night  the  fires  burnt  high  and  fierce,  as 
the  waxing  moon  set,  and  the  lion  left  the 
crouching  women  and  children  in  peace. 

And  the  next  day,  while  the  sun  was  still 
high,  the  hunters  returned — all  save  One  Eye, 
who  lay  dead  with  a  smashed  skull  at  the  foot 
of  the  ledge.  (When  Ugh-lomi  came  back  that 
evening  from  stalking  the  horses,  he  found  the 
vultures  already  busy  over  him.)  And  with 
them  the  hunters  brought  Eudena  bruised  and 
wounded,  but  alive.  That  had  been  the  strange 
order  of  the  shrivelled  old  woman,  that  she 
was  to  be  brought  alive — "She  is  no  kill  for  us. 
She  is  for  Uya  the  Lion."    Her  hands  were 


A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age  133 

tied  with  thongs,  as  though  she  had  been  a 
man,  and  she  came  weary  and  drooping — her 
hair  over  her  eyes  and  matted  with  blood. 
They  walked  about  her,  and  ever  and  again  the 
Snail-Eater,  whose  name  she  had  given,  would 
laugh  and  strike  her  with  his  ashen  spear.  And 
after  he  had  struck  her  with  his  spear,  he  would 
look  over  his  shoulder  like  one  who  had  done 
an  over-bold  deed.  The  others,  too,  looked 
over  their  shoulders  ever  and  again,  and  all 
were  in  a  hurry  save  Eudena.  When  the  old 
woman  saw  them  coming,  she  cried  aloud  with 
joy. 

They  made  Eudena  cross  the  river  with  her 
hands  tied,  although  the  current  was  strong 
and  when  she  slipped  the  old  woman  screamed, 
first  with  joy  and  then  for  fear  she  might  be 
drowned.  And  when  they  had  dragged  Eudena 
to  shore,  she  could  not  stand  for  a  time,  albeit 
they  beat  her  sore.  So  they  let  her  sit  with  her 
feet  touching  the  water,  and  her  eyes  staring 
before  her,  and  her  face  set,  whatever  they 
might  do  or  say.  All  the  tribe  came  down  to 
the  squatting-place,  even  curly  little  Haha,  who 
as  yet  could  scarcely  toddle,  and  stood  staring 
at  Eudena  and  the  old  woman,  as  now  we 
should  stare  at  some  strange  wounded  beast 
and  its  captor. 


134  Time  and  Space 


The  old  woman  tore  of¥  the  necklace  of  Uya 
that  was  about  Eudena's  neck,  and  put  it  on 
herself — she  had  been  the  first  to  wear  it.  Then 
she  tore  at  Eudena's  hair,  and  took  a  spear 
from  Siss  and  beat  her  with  all  her  might. 
And  when  she  had  vented  the  warmth  of  her 
heart  on  the  girl  she  looked  closely  into  her 
face.  Eudena's  eyes  were  closed  and  her  fea- 
tures were  set,  and  she  lay  so  still  that  for  a 
moment  the  old  woman  feared  she  was  dead. 
And  then  her  nostrils  quivered.  At  that  the  old 
woman  slapped  her  face  and  laughed  and  gave 
the  spear  to  Siss  again,  and  went  a  little  way 
off  from  her  and  began  to  talk  and  jeer  at  her 
after  her  manner. 

The  old  woman  had  more  words  than  any 
in  the  tribe.  And  her  talk  was  a  terrible  thing 
to  hear.  Sometimes  she  screamed  and  moaned 
incoherently,  and  sometimes  the  shape  of  her 
guttural  cries  was  the  mere  phantom  of 
thoughts.  But  she  conveyed  to  Eudena,  never- 
theless, much  of  the  things  that  were  yet  to 
come,  of  the  Lion  and  of  the  torment  he  would 
do  her.  ''And  Ugh-lomi !  Ha,  ha !  Ugh-lomi 
is  slain?" 

And  suddenly  Eudena's  eyes  opened  and  she 
sat  up  again,  and  her  look  met  the  old  woman's 
fair  and  level.   ''No,"  she  said  slowly,  like  one 


A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age  135 

trying  to  remember,  "I  did  not  see  my  Ugh- 
lomi  slain.  I  did  not  see  my  Ugh-lomi  slain/' 
"Tell  her/'  cried  the  old  woman.  "Tell  her 
— he  that  killed  him.  Tell  her  how  Ugh-lomi 
was  slain." 

She  looked,  and  all  the  women  and  children 
there  looked,  from  man  to  man. 

None  answered  her.  They  stood  shame- 
faced. 

"Tell  her,"  said  the  old  woman.  The  men 
looked  at  one  another. 

Eudena's  face  suddenly  lit. 

"Tell  her,"  she  said.  "Tell  her,  mighty  men ! 
Tell  her  the  killing  of  Ugh-lomi." 

The  old  woman  rose  and  struck  her  sharply 
across  her  mouth. 

"We  could  not  find  Ugh-lomi,"  said  Siss  the 
Tracker,  slowly.  "Who  hunts  two,  kills  none." 

Then  Eudena's  heart  leapt,  but  she  kept  her 
face  hard.  It  was  as  well,  for  the  old  woman 
looked  at  her  sharply,  with  murder  in  her  eyes. 

Then  the  old  woman  turned  her  tongue  upon 
the  men  because  they  had  feared  to  go  on  after 
Ugh-lomi.  She  dreaded  no  one  now  Uya  was 
slain.  She  scolded  them  as  one  scolds  children. 
And  they  scowled  at  her,  and  began  to  accuse 
one  another.  Until  suddenly  Siss  the  Tracker 
raised  his  voice  and  bade  her  hold  her  peace. 


136  Time  and  Space 


And  so  when  the  sun  was  setting  they  took 
Eudena  and  went — though  their  hearts  sank 
within  them — along  the  trail  the  old  lion  had 
made  in  the  reeds.  All  the  men  went  together. 
At  one  place  was  a  group  of  alders,  and  here 
they  hastily  bound  Eudena  where  the  lion 
might  find  her  when  he  came  abroad  in  the  twi- 
light, and  having  done  so  they  hurried  back  un- 
til they  were  near  the  squatting-place.  Then 
they  stopped.  Siss  stopped  first  and  looked 
back  again  at  the  alders.  They  could  see  her 
head  even  from  the  squatting-place,  a  little 
black  shock  under  the  limb  of  the  larger  tree. 
That  was  as  well. 

All  the  women  and  children  stood  watching 
upon  the  crest  of  the  mound.  And  the  old 
woman  stood  and  screamed  for  the  lion  to  take 
her  whom  he  sought,  and  counselled  him  on  the 
torments  he  might  do  her. 

Eudena  was  very  weary  now,  stunned  by 
beatings  and  fatigue  and  sorrow,  and  only  the 
fear  of  the  thing  that  was  still  to  come  upheld 
her.  The  sun  was  broad  and  blood-red  between 
the  stems  of  the  distant  chestnuts,  and  the  west 
was  all  on  fire ;  the  evening  breeze  had  died  to 
a  warm  tranquillity.  The  air  was  full  of  midge 
swarms,  the  fish  in  the  river  hard  by  would 
leap  at  times,  and  now  and  again  a  cockchafer 


A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age  137 

would  drone  through  the  air.  Out  of  the  cor- 
ner of  her  eye  Eudena  could  see  a  part  of  the 
squatting-knoll,  and  little  figures  standing  and 
staring  at  her.  And — a  very  little  sound  but 
very  clear — she  could  hear  the  beating  of  the 
firestone.  Dark  and  near  to  her  and  still  was 
the  reed-fringed  thicket  of  the  lair. 

Presently  the  firestone  ceased.  She  looked 
for  the  sun  and  found  he  had  gone,  and  over- 
head and  growing  brighter  was  the  waxing 
moon.  She  looked  towards  the  thicket  of  the 
lair,  seeking  shapes  in  the  reeds,  and  then  sud- 
denly she  began  to  wriggle  and  wriggle,  weep- 
ing and  calling  upon  Ugh-lomi. 

But  Ugh-lomi  was  far  away.  When  they 
saw  her  head  moving  with  her  struggles,  they 
shouted  together  on  the  knoll,  and  she  de- 
sisted and  was  still.  And  then  came  the  bats, 
and  the  star  that  was  like  Ugh-lomi  crept  out 
of  its  blue  hiding-place  in  the  west.  She  called 
to  it,  but  softly,  because  she  feared  the  lion. 
And  all  through  the  coming  of  the  twilight  the 
thicket  was  "stilL 

So  the  dark  crept  upon  Eudena,  and  the 
moon  grew  bright,  and  the  shadows  of  things 
that  had  fled  up  the  hillside  and  vanished  with 
the  evening  came  back  to  them  short  and  black. 
And  the  dark  shapes  in  the  thicket  of  reeds  and 


138  Time  and  Space 


alders  where  the  lion  lay,  gathered,  and  a  faint 
stir  began  there.  But  nothing  came  out  there- 
from all  through  the  gathering  of  the  darkness. 

She  looked  at  the  squatting-place  and  saw 
the  fires  glowing  smoky-red,  and  the  men  and 
women  going  to  and  fro.  The  other  way,  over 
the  river,  a  white  mist  was  rising.  Then  far 
away  came  the  whimpering  of  young  foxes  and 
the  yell  of  a  hyaena. 

There  were  long  gaps  of  aching  waiting. 
After  a  long  time  some  animal  splashed  in  the 
water,  and  seemed  to  cross  the  river  at  the  ford 
beyond  the  lair,  but  what  animal  it  was  she 
could  not  see.  From  the  distant  drinking-pools 
she  could  hear  the  sound  of  splashing,  and  the 
noise  of  elephants — so  still  was  the  night. 

The  earth  was  now  a  colourless  arrangement 
of  white  reflections  and  impenetrable  shadows, 
under  the  blue  sky.  The  silvery  moon  was  al- 
ready spotted  with  the  filigree  crests  of  the 
chestnut  woods,  and  over  the  shadowy  east- 
ward hills  the  stars  were  multiplying.  The 
knoll  fires  were  bright  red  now,  and  black 
figures  stood  waiting  against  them.  They  were 
waiting  for  a  scream.  .  .  .  Surely  it  would  be 
soon. 

The  night  suddenly  seemed  full  of  move- 
ment.  She  held  her  breath.  Things  were  pass- 


A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age  139 


ing — one,  two,  three — subtly  sneaking  shad- 
ows.   .    .    .  Jackals. 

Then  a  long  waiting  again. 

Then,  asserting  itself  as  real  at  once  over  all 
the  sounds  her  mind  had  imagined,  came  a  stir 
in  the  thicket,  then  a  vigorous  movement. 
There  was  a  snap.  The  reeds  crashed  heavily, 
once,  twice,  thrice,  and  then  everything  was 
still  save  a  measured  swishing.  She  heard  a 
low  tremulous  growl,  and  then  everything  was 
still  again.  The  stillness  lengthened — would 
it  never  end  ?  She  held  her  breath ;  she  bit  her 
lips  to  stop  screaming.  Then  something  scut- 
tled through  the  undergrowth.  Her  scream 
was  involuntary.  She  did  not  hear  the  answer- 
ing yell  from  the  mound. 

Immediately  the  thicket  woke  up  to  vigorous 
movement  again.  She  saw  the  grass  stems 
waving  in  the  light  of  the  setting  moon,  the 
alders  swaying.  She  struggled  violently — her 
last  struggle.  But  nothing  came  towards  her. 
A  dozen  monsters  seemed  rushing  about  in  that 
little  place  for  a  couple  of  minutes,  and  then 
again  came  silence.  The  moon  sank  behind  the 
distant  chestnuts  and  the  night  was  dark. 

Then  an  odd  sound,  a  sobbing  panting,  that 
grew  faster  and  fainter.    Yet  another  silence, 


140  Time  and  Space 


and  then  dim  sounds  and  the  grunting  of  some 
animal. 

Everything  was  still  again.  Far  away  east- 
wards an  elephant  trumpeted,  and  from  the 
woods  came  a  snarling  and  yelping  that  died 
away. 

In  the  long  interval  the  moon  shone  out 
again,  between  the  stems  of  the  trees  on  the 
ridge,  sending  two  great  bars  of  light  and  a  bar 
of  darkness  across  the  reedy  waste.  Then  came 
a  steady  rustling,  a  splash,  and  the  reeds 
swayed  wider  and  wider  apart.  And  at  last 
they  broke  open,  cleft  from  root  to  crest.  .  .  . 
The  end  had  come. 

She  looked  to  see  the  thing  that  had  come 
out  of  the  reeds.  For  a  moment  it  seemed  cer- 
tainly the  great  head  and  jaw  she  expected, 
and  then  it  dwindled  and  changed.  It  was  a 
dark  low  thing,  that  remained  silent,  but  it  was 
not  the  lion.  It  became  still — everything  be- 
came still.  She  peered.  It  was  like  some  gi- 
gantic frog,  two  limbs  and  a  slanting  body.  Its 
head  moved  about  searching  the  shadows. 
•    ■  • 

A  rustle,  and  it  moved  clumsily,  with  a  sort 
of  hopping.  And  as  it  moved  it  gave  a  low 
groan. 


A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age  141 


The  blood  rushing  through  her  veins  was 
suddenly  joy.    ''Ugh-lomir  she  whispered. 

The  thing  stopped.  ''Eudena/'  he  answered 
softly  with  pain  in  his  voice,  and  peering  into 
the  alders. 

He  moved  again,  and  came  out  of  the 
shadow  beyond  the  reeds  into  the  moonlight. 
All  his  body  was  covered  with  dark  smears. 
She  saw  he  was  dragging  his  legs,  and  that  he 
gripped  his  axe,  the  first  axe,  in  one  hand.  In 
another  moment  he  had  struggled  into  the  posi- 
tion of  all  fours,  and  had  staggered  over  to  her. 
*'The  lion,"  he  said  in  a  strange  mingling  of 
exultation  and  anguish.  "Wau! — I  have  slain 
a  lion.  With  my  own  hand.  Even  as  I  slew 
the  great  bear."  He  moved  to  emphasise  his 
words,  and  suddenly  broke  off  with  a  faint  cry. 
For  a  space  he  did  not  move. 

^^Let  me  free,"  whispered  Eudena.    .    .  . 

He  answered  her  no  words  but  pulled  him- 
self up  from  his  crawling  attitude  by  means  of 
the  alder  stem,  and  hacked  at  her  thongs  with 
the  sharp  edge  of  his  axe.  She  heard  him  sob 
at  each  blow.  He  cut  away  the  thongs  about 
her  chest  and  arms,  and  then  his  hand  dropped. 
His  chest  struck  against  her  shoulder  and  he 
slipped  down  beside  her  and  lay  still. 

But  the  rest  of  her  release  was  easy.  Very 


142  Time  and  Space 


hastily  she  freed  herself.  She  made  one  step 
from  the  tree,  and  her  head  was  spinning.  Her 
last  conscious  movement  was  towards  him. 
She  reeled,  and  dropped.  Her  hand  fell  upon 
his  thigh.  It  was  soft  and  wet,  and  gave  way 
under  her  pressure;  he  cried  out  at  her  touch, 
and  writhed  and  lay  still  again. 

Presently  a  dark  dog-like  shape  came  very 
softly  through  the  reeds.  Then  stopped  dead 
and  stood  sniffing,  hesitated,  and  at  last  turned 
and  slunk  back  into  the  shadows. 

Long  was  the  time  they  remained  there  mo- 
tionless, with  the  light  of  the  setting  moon 
shining  on  their  limbs.  Very  slowly,  as  slowly 
as  the  setting  of  the  moon,  did  the  shadow  of 
the  reeds  towards  the  mound  flow  over  them. 
Presently  their  legs  were  hidden,  and  Ugh- 
lomi  was  but  a  bust  of  silver.  The  shadow 
crept  to  his  neck,  crept  over  his  face,  and  so  at 
last  the  darkness  of  the  night  swallowed  them 
up. 

The  shadow  became  full  of  instinctive  stir- 
rings. There  was  a  patter  of  feet,  and  a  faint 
snarling — the  sound  of  a  blow. 

There  was  little  sleep  that  night  for  the 
women  and  children  at  the  squatting-place  un- 
til they  heard  Eudena  scream.    But  the  men 


A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age  143 

were  weary  and  sat  dozing.  When  Eudena 
screamed  they  felt  assured  of  their  safety,  and 
hurried  to  get  the  nearest  places  to  the  fires. 
The  old  woman  laughed  at  the  scream,  and 
laughed  again  because  Si,  the  little  friend  of 
Eudena,  whimpered.  Directly  the  dawn  came 
they  were  all  alert  and  looking  towards  the 
alders.  They  could  see  that  Eudena  had  been 
taken.  They  could  not  help  feeling  glad  to 
think  that  Uya  was  appeased.  But  across  the 
minds  of  the  men  the  thought  of  Ugh-lomi  fell 
like  a  shadow.  They  could  understand  re- 
venge, for  the  world  was  old  in  revenge,  but 
they  did  not  think  of  rescue.  Suddenly  a 
hysena  fled  out  of  the  thicket,  and  came  gallop- 
ing across  the  reed  space.  His  muzzle  and 
paws  were  dark-stained.  At  that  sight  all  the 
men  shouted  and  clutched  at  throwing-stones 
and  ran  towards  him,  for  no  animal  is  so  piti- 
ful a  coward  as  the  hyaena  by  day.  All  men 
hated  the  hyaena  because  he  preyed  on  children, 
and  would  come  and  bite  when  one  was  sleep- 
ing on  the  edge  of  the  squatting-place.  And 
Cat's-skin,  throwing  fair  and  straight,  hit  the 
brute  shrewdly  on  the  flank,  whereat  the  whole 
tribe  yelled  with  delight. 

At  the  noise  they  made  there  came  a  flapping 
of  wings  from  the  lair  of  the  lion,  and  three 


144  Time  and  Space 


white-headed  vultures  rose  slowly  and  circled 
and  came  to  rest  amidst  the  branches  of  an 
alder,  overlooking  the  lair.  "Our  lord  is 
abroad/'  said  the  old  woman,  pointing.  *The 
vultures  have  their  share  of  Eudena."  For  a 
space  they  remained  there,  and  then  first  one 
and  then  another  dropped  back  into  the  thicket. 

Then  over  the  eastern  woods,  and  touching 
the  whole  world  to  life  and  colour,  poured, 
with  the  exaltation  of  a  trumpet  blast,  the  light 
of  the  rising  sun.  At  the  sight  of  him  the  chil- 
dren shouted  together,  and  clapped  their  hands 
and  began  to  race  ofif  towards  the  water.  Only 
little  Si  lagged  behind  and  looked  wonderingly 
at  the  alders  where  she  had  seen  the  head  of 
Eudena  overnight. 

But  Uya,  the  old  lion,  was  not  abroad,  but 
at  home,  and  he  lay  very  still,  and  a  little  on 
one  side.  He  was  not  in  his  lair,  but  a  little 
way  from  it  in  a  place  of  trampled  grass.  Un- 
der one  eye  was  a  little  wound,  the  feeble  little 
bite  of  the  first  axe.  But  all  the  ground  be- 
neath his  chest  was  ruddy  brown  with  a  vivid 
streak,  and  in  his  chest  was  a  little  hole  that 
had  been  made  by  Ugh-lomi's  stabbing-spear. 
Along  his  side  and  at  his  neck  the  vultures  had 
marked  their  claims.  For  so  Ugh-lomi  had 
slain  him,  lying  stricken  under  his  paw  and 


A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age  145 

thrusting  haphazard  at  his  chest.  He  had 
driven  the  spear  in  with  all  his  strength  and 
stabbed  the  giant  to  the  heart.  So  it  was  the 
reign  of  the  lion,  of  the  second  incarnation  of 
Uya  the  Master,  came  to  an  end. 

From  the  knoll  the  bustle  of  preparation 
grew,  the  hacking  of  spears  and  throwing- 
stones.  None  spake  the  name  of  Ugh-lomi  for 
fear  that  it  might  bring  him.  The  men  were 
going  to  keep  together,  close  together,  in  the 
hunting  for  a  day  or  so.  And  their  hunting 
was  to  be  Ugh-lomi,  lest  instead  he  should 
come  a-hunting  them. 

But  Ugh-lomi  was  lying  very  still  and  silent, 
outside  the  lion's  lair,  and  Eudena  squatted  be- 
side him,  with  the  ash  spear,  all  smeared  with 
lion's  blood,  gripped  in  her  hand. 

V  THE  FIGHT  IN  THE  LION^S  THICKET 

Ugh-lomi  lay  still,  his  back  against  an  alder, 
and  his  thigh  was  a  red  mass  terrible  to  see. 
No  civilised  man  could  have  lived  who  had 
been  so  sorely  wounded,  but  Eudena  got  him 
thorns  to  close  his  wounds,  and  squatted  beside 
him  day  and  night,  smiting  the  flies  from  him 
with  a  fan  of  reeds  by  day,  and  in  the  night 
threatening  the  hyaenas  with  the  first  axe 
in   her   hand;   and   in   a   little     while  he 

K 


146  Time  and  Space 


began  to  heal.  It  was  high  summer,  and 
there  was  no  rain.  Little  food  they  had 
during  the  first  two  days  his  wounds  were 
open.  In  the  low  place  where  they  hid  were  no 
roots  nor  little  beasts,  and  the  stream,  with  its 
water-snails  and  fish,  was  in  the  open  a  hun- 
dred yards  away.  She  could  not  go  abroad  by 
day  for  fear  of  the  tribe,  her  brothers  and  sis- 
ters, nor  by  night  for  fear  of  the  beasts,  both 
on  his  account  and  hers.  So  they  shared  the 
lion  with  the  vultures.  But  there  was  a  trickle 
of  water  near  by,  and  Eudena  brought  him 
plenty  in  her  hands. 

Where  Ugh-lomi  lay  was  well  hidden  from 
the  tribe  by  a  thicket  of  alders,  and  all  fenced 
about  with  bulrushes  and  tall  reeds.  The  dead 
lion  he  had  killed  lay  near  his  old  lair  on  a  place 
of  trampled  reeds  fifty  yards  away,  in  sight 
through  the  reed-stems,  and  the  vultures 
fought  each  other  for  the  choicest  pieces  and 
kept  the  jackals  off  him.  Very  soon  a  cloud  of 
flies  that  looked  like  bees  hung  over  him,  and 
Ugh-lomi  could  hear  their  humming.  And 
when  Ugh-lomi's  flesh  was  already  healing — 
and  it  was  not  many  days  before  that  began — 
only  a  few  bones  of  the  lion  remained  scattered 
and  shining  white. 

For  the  most  part  Ugh-lomi  sat  still  during 


A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age  147 

the  day,  looking  before  him  at  nothing,  some- 
times he  would  mutter  of  the  horses  and  bears 
and  lions,  and  sometimes  he  would  beat  the 
ground  with  the  first  axe  and  say  the  names  of 
the  tribe — he  seemed  to  have  no  fear  of  bring- 
ing the  tribe — for  hours  together.  But  chiefly 
he  slept,  dreaming  little  because  of  his  loss  of 
blood  and  the  slightness  of  his  food.  During 
the  short  summer  night  both  kept  awake.  All 
the  while  the  darkness  lasted  things  moved 
about  them,  things  they  never  saw  by  day.  For 
some  nights  the  hyaenas  did  not  come,  and  then 
one  moonless  night  near  a  dozen  came  and 
fought  for  what  was  left  of  the  lion.  The  night 
was  a  tumult  of  growling,  and  Ugh-lomi  and 
Eudena  could  hear  the  bones  snap  in  their 
teeth.  But  they  knew  the  hyaena  dare  not  at- 
tack any  creature  alive  and  awake,  and  so  they 
were  not  greatly  afraid. 

Of  a  daytime  Eudena  would  go  along  the 
narrow  path  the  old  lion  had  made  in  the  reeds 
until  she  was  beyond  the  bend,  and  then  she 
would  creep  into  the  thicket  and  watch  the 
tribe.  She  would  lie  close  by  the  alders  where 
they  had  bound  her  to  offer  her  up  to  the  lion, 
and  thence  she  could  see  them  on  the  knoll  by 
the  fire,  small  and  clear,  as  she  had  seen  them 
that  night.   But  she  told  Ugh-lomi  little  of 


148  Time  and  Space 


what  she  saw,  because  she  feared  to  bring  them 
by  their  names.  For  so  they  beUeved  in  those 
days,  that  naming  called. 

She  saw  the  men  prepare  stabbing-spears 
and  throwing-stones  on  the  morning  after 
Ugh-lomi  had  slain  the  lion,  and  go  out  to  hunt 
him,  leaving  the  women  and  children  on  the 
knoll.  Little  they  knew  how  near  he  was  as 
they  tracked  off  in  single  file  towards  the  hills, 
with  Siss  the  Tracker  leading  them.  And  she 
watched  the  women  and  children,  after  the  men 
had  gone,  gathering  fern-fronds  and  twigs  for 
the  night  fire,  and  the  boys  and  girls  running 
and  playing  together.  But  the  very  old  woman 
made  her  feel  afraid.  Towards  noon,  when 
most  of  the  others  were  down  at  the  stream  by 
the  bend,  she  came  and  stood  on  the  hither  side 
of  the  knoll,  a  gnarled  brown  figure,  and  ges- 
ticulated so  that  Eudena  could  scarce  believe 
she  was  not  seen.  Eudena  lay  like  a  hare  in 
its  form,  with  shining  eyes  fixed  on  the  bent 
witch  away  there,  and  presently  she  dimly  un- 
derstood it  was  the  lion  the  old  woman  was 
worshipping — the  lion  Ugh-lomi  had  slain. 

And  the  next  day  the  hunters  came  back 
weary,  carrying  a  fawn,  and  Eudena  watched 
the  feast  enviously.  And  then  came  a  strange 
thing.   She  saw — distinctly  she  heard — the  old 


A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age  149 


woman  shrieking  and  gesticulating  and  point- 
ing towards  her.  She  was  afraid,  and  crept 
Hke  a  snake  out  of  sight  again.  But  presently 
curiosity  overcame  her  and  she  was  back  at  her 
spying-place,  and  as  she  peered  her  heart 
stopped,  for  there  were  all  the  men,  with  their 
weapons  in  their  hands,  walking  together  to- 
wards her  from  the  knoll. 

She  dared  not  move  lest  her  movement 
should  be  seen,  but  she  pressed  herself  close  to 
the  ground.  The  sun  was  low  and  the  golden 
light  was  in  the  faces  of  the  men.  She  saw 
they  carried  a  piece  of  rich  red  meat  thrust 
through  by  an  ashen  stake.  Presently  they 
stopped.  ''Go  on!''  screamed  the  old  woman. 
Cat's-skin  grumbled,  and  they  came  on,  search- ' 
ing  the  thicket  with  sun-dazzled  eyes.  ''Here !" 
said  Siss.  And  they  took  the  ashen  stake  with 
the  meat  upon  it  and  thrust  it  into  the  ground. 
"Uya cried  Siss,  "behold  thy  portion.  And 
Ugh-lomi  we  have  slain.  Of  a  truth  we  have 
slain  Ugh-lomi.  This  day  we  slew  Ugh-lomi, 
and  to-morrow  we  will  bring  his  body  to  you." 
And  the  others  repeated  the  words. 

They  looked  at  each  other  and  behind  them, 
and  partly  turned  and  began  going  back.  At 
first  they  walked  half  turned  to  the  thicket, 
then  facing  the  mound  they  walked  faster 


150  Time  and  Space 

looking  over  their  shoulders,  then  faster ;  soon 
they  ran,  it  was  a  race  at  last,  until  they  were 
near  the  knoll.  Then  Siss  who  was  hindmost 
was  first  to  slacken  his  pace. 

The  sunset  passed  and  the  twilight  came, 
the  fires  glowed  red  against  the  hazy  blue  of 
the  distant  chestnut-trees,  and  the  voices  over 
the  mound  were  merry.  Eudena  lay  scarcely 
stirring,  looking  from  the  mound  to  the  meat 
and  then  to  the  mound.  She  was  hungry,  but 
she  was  afraid.  At  last  she  crept  back  to  Ugh- 
lomi. 

He  looked  round  at  the  little  rustle  of  her 
approach.  His  face  was  in  shadow.  "Have 
you  got  me  some  food?"  he  said. 

She  said  she  could  find  nothing,  but  that  she 
would  seek  further,  and  went  back  along  the 
lion's  path  until  she  could  see  the  mound  again, 
but  she  could  not  bring  herself  to  take  the 
meat;  she  had  the  brute's  instinct  of  a  snare. 
She  felt  very  miserable. 

She  crept  back  at  last  towards  Ugh-lomi  and 
heard  him  stirring  and  moaning.  She  turned 
back  to  the  mound  again;  then  she  saw  some- 
thing in  the  darkness  near  the  stake,  and  peer- 
ing distinguished  a  jackal.  In  a  flash  she  was 
brave  and  angry ;  she  sprang  up,  cried  out,  and 
ran  towards  the  offering.    She  stumbled  and 


A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age  151 


fell,  and  heard  the  growling  of  the  jackal  go- 
ing off. 

When  she  arose  only  the  ashen  stake  lay  on 
the  ground,  the  meat  was  gone.  So  she  went 
back,  to  fast  through  the  night  with  Ugh-lomi  ; 
and  Ugh-lomi  was  angry  with  her,  because  she 
had  no  food  for  him ;  but  she  told  him  nothing 
of  the  things  she  had  seen. 

Two  days  passed  and  they  were  near  starv- 
ing, when  the  tribe  slew  a  horse.  Then  came 
the  same  ceremony,  and  a  haunch  was  left  on 
the  ashen  stake;  but  this  time  Eudena  did  not 
hesitate. 

By  acting  and  words  she  made  Ugh-lomi 
understand,  but  he  ate  most  of  the  food  before 
he  understood ;  and  then  as  her  meaning  passed 
to  him  he  grew  merry  with  his  food.  am 
Uya,"  he  said ;  ''I  am  the  Lion.  I  am  the  Great 
Cave  Bear,  I  who  was  only  Ugh-lomi.  I  am 
Wau  the  Cunning.  It  is  well  that  they  should 
feed  me,  for  presently  I  will  kill  them  all.'' 

Then  Eudena's  heart  was  light,  and  she 
laughed  with  him ;  and  afterwards  she  ate  what 
he  had  left  of  the  horseflesh  with  gladness. 

After  that  it  was  he  had  a  dream,  and  the 
next  day  he  made  Eudena  bring  him  the  lion's 
teeth  and  claws — so  much  of  them  as  she  could 
find — and  hack  him  a  club  of  alder.  And  he  put 


152  Time  and  Space 


the  teeth  and  claws  very  cunningly  into  the 
wood  so  that  the  points  were  outward.  Very 
long  it  took  him,  and  he  blunted  two  of  the 
teeth  hammering  them  in,  and  was  very  angry 
and  threw  the  thing  away;  but  afterwards  he 
dragged  himself  to  where  he  had  thrown  it  and 
finished  it — a  club  of  a  new  sort  set  with  teeth. 
That  day  there  was  more  meat  for  them  both, 
an  offering  to  the  lion  from  the  tribe. 

It  was  one  day — more  than  a  hand's  fingers 
of  days,  more  than  anyone  had  skill  to  count — 
after  Ugh-lomi  had  made  the  club,  that  Eudena 
while  he  was  asleep  was  lying  in  the  thicket 
watching  the  squatting-place.  There  had  been 
no  meat  for  three  days.  And  the  old  woman 
came  and  worshipped  after  her  manner.  Now 
while  she  worshipped,  Eudena's  little  friend  Si 
and  another,  the  child  of  the  first  girl  Siss  had 
loved,  came  over  the  knoll  and  stood  regard- 
ing her  skinny  figure,  and  presently  they  began 
to  mock  her.  Eudena  found  this  entertaining, 
but  suddenly  the  old  woman  turned  on  them 
quickly  and  saw  them.  For  a  moment  she 
stood  and  they  stood  motionless,  and  then  with 
a  shriek  of  rage,  she  rushed  towards  them,  and 
all  three  disappeared  over  the  crest  of  the  knoll. 

Presently  the  children  reappeared  among  the 
ferns  beyond  the  shoulder  of  the  hill.   Little  Si 


A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age  153 

ran  first,  for  she  was  an  active  girl,  and  the 
other  child  ran  squealing  with  the  old  woman 
close  upon  her.  And  over  the  knoll  came  Siss 
with  a  bone  in  his  hand,  and  Bo  and  Cat's-skin 
obsequiously  behind  him,  each  holding  a  piece 
of  food,  and  they  laughed  aloud  and  shouted  to 
see  the  old  woman  so  angry.  And  with  a  shriek 
the  child  was  caught  and  the  old  woman  set  to 
work  slapping  and  the  child  screaming,  and  it 
was  very  good  after-dinner  fun  for  them.  Lit- 
tle Si  ran  on  a  little  way  and  stopped  at  last 
between  fear  and  curiosity. 

And  suddenly  came  the  mother  of  the  child, 
with  hair  streaming,  panting,  and  with  a  stone 
in  her  hand,  and  the  old  woman  turned  about 
like  a  wild  cat.  She  was  the  equal  of  any 
woman,  was  the  chief  of  the  fire-minders,  in 
spite  of  her  years ;  but  before  she  could  do  any- 
thing Siss  shouted  to  her  and  the  clamour  rose 
loud.  Other  shock  heads  came  into  sight.  It 
seemed  the  whole  tribe  was  at  home  and  feast- 
ing. But  the  old  woman  dared  not  go  on 
wreaking  herself  on  the  child  Siss  befriended. 

Everyone  made  noises  and  called  names — 
even  little  Si.  Abruptly  the  old  woman  let  go 
of  the  child  she  had  caught  and  made  a  swift 
run  at  Si  for  Si  had  no  friends;  and  Si,  real- 
ising her  danger  when  it  was  almost  upon  her, 


154  Time  and  Space 


made  off  headlong,  with  a  faint  cry  of  terror, 
not  heeding  whither  she  ran,  straight  to  the 
lair  of  the  lion.  She  swerved  aside  into  the 
reeds  presently,  realising  now  whither  she 
went. 

But  the  old  woman  was  a  wonderful  old 
woman,  as  active  as  she  was  spiteful,  and  she 
caught  Si  by  the  streaming  hair  within  thirty 
yards  of  Eudena.  All  the  tribe  now  was  run- 
ning down  the  knoll  and  shouting  and  laugh- 
ing ready  to  see  the  fun. 

Then  something  stirred  in  Eudena;  some- 
thing that  had  never  stirred  in  her  before ;  and, 
thinking  all  of  little  Si  and  nothing  of  her  fear, 
she  sprang  up  from  her  ambush  and  ran  swiftly 
forward.  The  old  woman  did  not  see  her,  for 
she  was  busy  beating  little  Si's  face  with  her 
hand,  beating  with  all  her  heart,  and  suddenly 
something  hard  and  heavy  struck  her  cheek. 
She  went  reeling,  and  saw  Eudena  with  flam- 
ing eyes  and  cheeks  between  her  and  little  Si. 
She  shrieked  with  astonishment  and  terror, 
and  little  Si,  not  understanding,  set  off  towards 
the  gaping  tribe.  They  were  quite  close  now, 
for  the  sight  of  Eudena  had  driven  their  fad- 
ing fear  of  the  lion  out  of  their  heads. 

In  a  moment  Eudena  had  turned  from  the 
cowering  old  woman  and  overtaken  Si.    "Si !" 


A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age  155 


she  cried,  ''Si !"  She  caught  the  child  up  in  her 
arms  as  it  stopped,  pressed  the  nail-hned  face 
to  hers,  and  turned  about  to  run  towards  her 
lair,  the  lair  of  the  old  lion.  The  old  woman 
stood  waist-high  in  the  reeds,  and  screamed 
foul  things  and  inarticulate  rage,  but  did  not 
dare  to  intercept  her;  and  at  the  bend  of  the 
path  Eudena  looked  back  and  saw  all  the  men 
of  the  tribe  crying  to  one  another  and  Siss 
coming  at  a  trot  along  the  lion's  trail. 

She  ran  straight  along  the  narrow  way 
through  the  reeds  to  the  shady  place  where 
Ugh-lomi  sat  with  his  healing  thigh,  just 
awakened  by  the  shouting  and  rubbing  his 
eyes.  She  came  to  him,  a  woman,  with  little 
Si  in  her  arms.  Her  heart  throbbed  in  her 
throat.  ''Ugh-lomi!"  she  cried,  "Ugh-lomi, 
the  tribe  comes!'' 

Ugh-lomi  sat  staring  in  stupid  astonishment 
at  her  and  Si. 

She  pointed  with  Si  in  one  arm.  She  sought 
among  her  feeble  store  of  words  to  explain. 
She  could  hear  the  men  calling.  Apparently 
they  had  stopped  outside.  She  put  down  Si 
and  caught  up  the  new  club  with  the  lion's 
teeth,  and  put  it  into  Ugh-lomi's  hand,  and  ran 
three  yards  and  picked  up  the  first  axe. 

"Ah !"  said  Ugh-lomi,  waving  the  new  dub, 


156  Time  and  Space 


and  suddenly  he  perceived  the  occasion  and, 
roUing  over,  began  to  struggle  to  his  feet. 

He  stood  but  clumsily.  He  supported  him- 
self by  one  hand  against  the  tree,  and  just 
touched  the  ground  gingerly  with  the  toe  of 
his  wounded  leg.  In  the  other  hand  he  gripped 
the  new  club.  He  looked  at  his  healing  thigh ; 
and  suddenly  the  reeds  began  whispering,  and 
ceased  and  whispered  again,  and  coming  cau- 
tiously along  the  track,  bending  down  and  hold- 
ing his  fire-hardened  stabbing-stick  of  ash  in  his 
hand,  appeared  Siss.  He  stopped  dead,  and  his 
eyes  met  Ugh-lomi's. 

Ugh-lomi  forgot  he  had  a  wounded  leg.  He 
stood  firmly  on  both  feet.  Something  trickled. 
He  glanced  down  and  saw  a  little  gout  of  blood 
had  oozed  out  along  the  edge  of  the  healing 
wound.  He  rubbed  his  hand  there  to  give  him 
the  grip  of  his  club,  and  fixed  his  eyes  again  on 
Siss. 

*'Wau !"  he  cried,  and  sprang  forward,  and 
Siss,  still  stooping  and  watchful,  drove  his 
stabbing-stick  up  very  quickly  in  an  ugly 
thrust.  It  ripped  Ugh-lomi's  guarding  arm  and 
the  club  came  down  in  a  counter  that  Siss  was 
never  to  understand.  He  fell,  as  an  ox  falls  to 
the  pole-axe,  at  Ugh-lomi's  feet. 

To  Bo  it  seemed  the  strangest  thing.  He 


A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age  157 

had  a  comforting  sense  of  tall  reeds  on  either 
side,  and  an  impregnable  rampart,  Siss,  be- 
tween him  and  any  danger.  Snail-eater  was 
close  behind  and  there  was  no  danger  there.  He 
was  prepared  to  shove  behind  and  send  Siss  to 
death  or  victory.  That  was  his  place  as  second 
man.  He  saw  the  butt  of  the  spear  Siss  carried 
leap  away  from  him,  and  suddenly  a  dull  whack 
and  the  broad  back  fell  away  forward,  and  he 
looked  Ugh-lomi  in  the  face  over  his  prostrate 
leader.  It  felt  to  Bo  as  if  his  heart  had  fallen 
down  a  well.  He  had  a  throwing-stone  in  one 
hand  and  an  ashen  stabbing-stick  in  the  other. 
He  did  not  live  to  the  end  of  his  momentary 
hesitation  which  to  use. 

Snail-eater  was  a  readier  man,  and  besides 
Bo  did  not  fall  forward  as  Siss  had  done,  but 
gave  at  his  knees  and  hips,  crumpling  up  with 
the  toothed  club  upon  his  head.  The  Snail- 
eater  drove  his  spear  forward  swift  and 
straight,  and  took  Ugh-lomi  in  the  muscle  of 
the  shoulder,  and  then  he  drove  him  hard  with 
the  smiting-stone  in  his  other  hand,  shouting 
out  as  he  did  so.  The  new  club  swished  inef- 
fectually through  the  reeds.  Eudena  saw  Ugh- 
lomi  come  staggering  back  from  the  narrow 
path  into  the  open  space,  tripping  over  Siss  and 
with  a  foot  of  ashen  stake  sticking  out  of  him 


158  Time  and  Space 


over  his  arm.  And  then  the  Snail-eater,  whose 
name  she  had  given,  had  his  final  injury  from 
her,  as  his  exultant  face  came  out  of  the.  reeds 
after  his  spear.  For  she  swung  the  first  axe 
swift  and  high,  and  hit  him  fair  and  square  on 
the  temple ;  and  down  he  went  on  Siss  at  pros- 
trate Ugh-lomi's  feet. 

But  before  Ugh-lomi  could  get  up,  the  two 
red-haired  men  were  tumbling  out  of  the  reeds, 
spears  and  smiting-stones  ready,  and  Snake 
hard  behind  them.  One  she  struck  on  the 
neck,  but  not  to  fell  him,  and  he  blundered 
aside  and  spoilt  his  brother's  blow  at  Ugh- 
lomi's  head.  In  a  moment  Ugh-lomi  dropped 
his  club  and  had  his  assailant  by  the  waist,  and 
had  pitched  him  sideways  sprawling.  He 
snatched  at  his  club  again  and  recovered  it.  The 
man  Eudena  had  hit  stabbed  at  her  with  his 
spear  as  he  stumbled  from  her  blow,  and  invol- 
untarily she  gave  ground  to  avoid  him.  He 
hesitated  between  her  and  Ugh-lomi,  half 
turned,  gave  a  vague  cry  at  finding  Ugh-lomi 
so  near,  and  in  a  moment  Ugh-lomi  had  him  by 
the  throat,  and  the  club  had  its  third  victim.  As 
he  went  down  Ugh-lomi  shouted — no  words, 
but  an  exultant  cry. 

The  other  red-haired  man  was  six  feet  from 
her  with  his  back  to  her,  and  a  darker  red 


A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age  159 

streaking  his  head.  He  was  struggHng  to  his 
feet.  She  had  an  irrational  impulse  to  stop  his 
rising.  She  flung  the  axe  at  him,  missed,  saw 
his  face  in  profile,  and  he  had  swerved  beyond 
little  Si,  and  was  running  through  the  reeds. 
She  had  a  transitory  vision  of  Snake  standing 
in  the  throat  of  the  path,  half  turned  away  from 
her,  and  then  she  saw  his  back.  She  saw  the 
club  whirling  through  the  air,  and  the  shock 
head  of  Ugh-lomi,  with  blood  in  the  hair  and 
blood  upon  the  shoulder,  vanishing  below  the 
reeds  in  pursuit.  Then  she  heard  Snake  scream 
like  a  woman. 

She  ran  past  Si  to  where  the  handle  of  the 
axe  stuck  out  of  a  clump  of  fern,  and  turning, 
found  herself  panting  and  alone  with  three  mo- 
tionless bodies.  The  air  was  full  of  shouts  and 
screams.  For  a  space  she  was  sick  and  giddy, 
and  then  it  came  into  her  head  that  Ugh-lomi 
was  being  killed  along  the  reed-path,  and  with 
an  inarticulate  cry  she  leapt  over  the  body  of 
Bo  and  hurried  after  him.  Snake's  feet  lay 
across  the  path,  and  his  head  was  among  the 
reeds.  She  followed  the  path  until  it  bent 
round  and  opened  out  by  the  alders,  and  thence 
she  saw  all  that  was  left  of  the  tribe  in  the  open, 
scattering  like  dead  leaves  before  a  gale,  and 


l6o  Time  and  Space 


going  back  over  the  knoll.  Ugh-lomi  was  hard 
upon  Cat's-skin. 

But  Cat's-skin  was  fleet  of  foot  and  got 
away,  and  so  did  young  Wau-Hau  when  Ugh- 
lomi  turned  upon  him,  and  Ugh-lomi  pursued 
Wau-Hau  far  beyond  the  knoll  before  he  de- 
sisted. He  had  the  rage  of  battle  on  him  now, 
and  the  wood  thrust  through  his  shoulder  stung 
him  like  a  spur.  When  she  saw  he  was  in  no 
danger  she  stopped  running  and  stood  panting, 
watching  the  distant  active  figures  run  up  and 
vanish  one  by  one  over  the  knoll.  In  a  little 
time  she  was  alone  again.  Everything  had  hap- 
pened very  swiftly.  The  smoke  of  Brother 
Fire  rose  straight  and  steady  from  the  squat- 
ting-place,  just  as  it  had  done  ten  minutes  ago, 
when  the  old  woman  had  stood  yonder  wor- 
shipping the  lion. 

And  after  a  long  time,  as  it  seemed,  Ugh- 
lomi  reappeared  over  the  knoll,  and  came  back 
to  Eudena,  triumphant  and  breathing  heavily. 
She  stood,  her  hair  about  her  eyes  and  hot- 
faced,  with  the  blood-stained  axe  in  her  hand, 
at  the  place  where  the  tribe  had  offered  her  as 
a  sacrifice  to  the  lion.  ''Wau !"  cried  Ugh-lomi 
at  the  sight  of  her,  his  face  alight  with  the  fel- 
lowship of  battle,  and  he  waved  his  new  club, 
red  now  and  hairy;  and  at  the  sight  of  his 


A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age     1 6 1 


glowing  face  her  tense  pose  relaxed  somewhat, 
and  she  stood  sobbing  and  rejoicing. 

Ugh-lomi  had  a  queer  unaccountable  pang 
at  the  sight  of  her  tears;  but  he  only  shouted 
" Wau !"  the  louder  and  shook  the  axe  east  and 
west.  He  called  manfully  to  her  to  follow  him 
and  turned  back,  striding,  with  the  club  swing- 
ing in  his  hand,  towards  the  squatting-place,  as 
if  he  had  never  left  the  tribe;  and  she  ceased 
her  weeping  and  followed  quickly  as  a  woman 
should. 

So  Ugh-lomi  and  Eudena  came  back  to  the 
squatting-place  from  which  they  had  fled  many 
days  before  from  the  face  of  Uya ;  and  by  the 
squatting-place  lay  a  deer  half  eaten,  just  as 
there  had  been  before  Ugh-lomi  was  man  or 
Eudena  woman.  So  Ugh-lomi  sat  down  to 
eat,  and  Eudena  beside  him  like  a  man,  and  the 
rest  of  the  tribe  watched  them  from  safe  hid- 
ing-places. And  after  a  time  one  of  the  elder 
girls  came  back  timorously,  carrying  little  Si 
in  her  arms,  and  Eudena  called  to  them  by 
name,  and  offered  them  food.  But  the  elder 
girl  was  afraid  and  would  not  come,  though  Si 
struggled  to  come  to  Eudena.  Afterwards, 
when  Ugh-lomi  had  eaten,  he  sat  dozing,  and 
at  last  he  slept,  and  slowly  the  others  came  out 
of  the  hiding-places  and  drew  near.   And  when 

h 


l62 


Time  and  Space 


Ugh-lomi  woke,  save  that  there  were  no  men  to 
be  seen,  it  seemed  as  though  he  had  never  left 
the  tribe. 

Now,  there  is  a  thing  strange  but  true :  that 
all  through  this  fight  Ugh-lomi  forgot  that  he 
was  lame,  and  was  not  lame,  and  after  he  had 
rested  behold !  he  was  a  lame  man ;  and  he  re- 
mained a  lame  man  to  the  end  of  his  days. 

Cat's-skin  and  the  second  red-haired  man 
and  Wau-Hau,  who  chipped  flints  cunningly, 
as  his  father  had  done  before  him,  fled  from 
the  face  of  Ugh-lomi,  and  none  knew  where 
they  hid.  But  two  days  after  they  came  and 
squatted  a  good  way  off  from  the  knoll  among 
the  bracken  under  the  chestnuts  and  watched. 
Ugh-lomi's  rage  had  gone,  he  moved  to  go 
against  them  and  did  not,  and  at  sundown  they 
went  away.  That  day,  too,  they  found  the  old 
woman  among  the  ferns,  where  Ugh-lomi  had 
blundered  upon  her  when  he  had  pursued  Wau- 
Hau.  She  was  dead  and  more  ugly  than  ever, 
but  whole.  The  jackals  and  vultures  had  tried 
her  and  left  her; — she  was  ever  a  wonderful 
old  woman. 

The  next  day  the  three  men  came  again  and 
squatted  nearer,  and  Wau-Hau  had  two  rab- 
bits to  hold  up,  and  the  red-haired  man  a  wood- 


A  Story  of  the  Stone  Age  163 


pigeon,  and  Ugh-lomi  stood  before  the  women 
and  mocked  them. 

The  next  day  they  sat  again  nearer — ^without 
stones  or  sticks,  and  with  the  same  offerings, 
and  Cat's-skin  had  a  trout.  It  was  rare  men 
caught  fish  in  those  days,  but  Cat's-skin  would 
stand  silently  in  the  water  for  hours  and  catch 
them  with  his  hand.  And  the  fourth  day  Ugh- 
lomi  suffered  these  three  to  come  to  the  squat- 
ting-place  in  peace,  with  the  food  they  had 
with  them.  Ugh-lomi  ate  the  trout.  Thereafter 
for  many  moons  Ugh-lomi  was  master  and  had 
his  will  in  peace.  And  on  the  fulness  of  time  he 
was  killed  and  eaten  even  as  Uya  had  been 
slain. 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come 


A  STORY  OF  THE  DAYS  TO 

COME 


I  THE  CURE  FOR  LOVE 

The  excellent  Mr.  Morris  was  an  English- 
man, and  he  lived  in  the  days  of  Queen  Vic- 
toria the  Good.  He  was  a  prosperous  and  very 
sensible  man;  he  read  the  Times  and  went  to 
church,  and  as  he  grew  towards  middle  age  an 
expression  of  quiet  contented  contempt  for  all 
who  were  not  as  himself  settled  on  his  face.  He 
was  one  of  those  people  who  do  everything  that 
is  right  and  proper  and  sensible  with  inevitable 
regularity.  He  always  wore  just  the  right  and 
proper  clothes,  steering  the  narrow  way  be- 
tween the  smart  and  the  shabby,  always  sub- 
scribed to  the  right  charities,  just  the  judicious 
compromise  between  ostentation  and  mean- 
ness, and  never  failed  to  have  his  hair  cut  to  ex- 
actly the  proper  length. 

Everything  that  it  was  right  and  proper  for  a 
man  in  his  position  to  possess,  he  possessed; 

167 


1 68  Time  and  Space 


and  everything  that  it  was  not  right  and  proper 
for  a  man  in  his  position  to  possess,  he  did  not 
possess. 

And  among  other  right  and  proper  posses- 
sions, this  Mr.  Morris  had  a  wife  and  children. 
They  were  the  right  sort  of  wife,  and  the  right 
sort  and  number  of  children,  of  course ;  nothing 
imaginative  or  highty-flighty  about  any  of 
them,  so  far  as  Mr.  Morris  could  see ;  they  wore 
perfectly  correct  clothing,  neither  smart  nor  hy- 
gienic nor  faddy  in  any  way,  but  just  sensible; 
and  they  lived  in  a  nice  sensible  house  in  the 
later  Victorian  sham  Queen  Anne  style  of 
architecture,  with  sham  half-timbering  of  choc- 
olate-painted plaster  in  the  gables,  Lincrusta 
Walton  sham  carved  oak  panels,  a  terrace  of 
terra  cotta  to  imitate  stone,  and  cathedral  glass 
in  the  front  door.  His  boys  went  to  good  solid 
schools,  and  were  put  to  respectable  profes- 
sions ;  his  girls,  in  spite  of  a  fantastic  protest  or 
so,  were  all  married  to  suitable,  steady,  oldish 
young  men  with  good  prospects.  And  when  it 
was  a  fit  and  proper  thing  for  him  to  do  so,  Mr. 
Morris  died.  His  tomb  was  of  marble,  and, 
without  any  art  nonsense  or  laudatory  inscrip- 
tion, quietly  imposing — such  being  the  fashion 
of  his  time. 

He  underwent  various  changes  according  to 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  169 

the  accepted  custom  in  these  cases,  and  long  be- 
fore this  story  begins  his  bones  even  had  be- 
come dust,  and  were  scattered  to  the  four  quar- 
ters of  heaven.  And  his  sons  and  his  grandsons 
and  his  great-grandsons  and  his  great-great- 
grandsons,  they  too  were  dust  and  ashes,  and 
were  scattered  likewise.  It  was  a  thing  he  could 
not  have  imagined,  that  a  day  would  come 
when  even  his  great-great-grandsons  would  be 
scattered  to  the  four  winds  of  heaven.  If  any 
one  had  suggested  it  to  him  he  would  have  re- 
sented it.  He  was  one  of  those  worthy  people 
who  take  no  interest  in  the  future  of  mankind 
at  all.  He  had  grave  doubts,  indeed,  if  there 
was  any  future  for  mankind  after  he  was  dead. 

It  seemed  quite  impossible  and  quite  uninter- 
esting to  imagine  anything  happening  after  he 
was  dead.  Yet  the  thing  was  so,  and  when  even 
his  great-great-grandson  was  dead  and  decayed 
and  forgotten,  when  the  sham  half-timbered 
house  had  gone  the  way  of  all  shams,  and  the 
Times  was  extinct,  and  the  silk  hat  a  ridiculous 
antiquity,  and  the  modestly  imposing  stone  that 
had  been  sacred  to  Mr.  Morris  had  been  burnt 
to  make  lime  for  mortar,  and  all  that  Mr.  Mor- 
ris had  found  real  and  important  was  sere  and 
dead,  the  world  was  still  going  on,  and  people 
were  still  going  about  it,  just  as  heedless  and 


170  Time  and  Space 


impatient  of  the  Future,  or,  indeed,  of  anything 
but  their  own  selves  and  property,  as  Mr.  Mor- 
ris had  been. 

And,  strange  to  tell,  and  much  as  Mr.  Morris 
would  have  been  angered  if  any  one  had  fore- 
shadowed it  to  him,  all  over  the  world  there 
were  scattered  a  multitude  of  people,  filled  with 
the  breath  of  life,  in  whose  veins  the  blood  of 
Mr.  Morris  flowed.  Just  as  some  day  the  life 
which  is  gathered  now  in  the  reader  of  this  very 
story  may  also  be  scattered  far  and  wide  about 
this  world,  and  mingled  with  a  thousand  alien 
strains,  beyond  all  thought  and  tracing. 

And  among  the  descendants  of  this  Mr.  Mor- 
ris was  one  almost  as  sensible  and  clear-headed 
as  his  ancestor.  He  had  just  the  same  stout, 
short  frame  as  that  ancient  man  of  the  nine- 
teenth century,  from  whom  his  name  of  Mor- 
ris— he  spelt  it  Mwres — came ;  he  had  the  same 
half-contemptuous  expression  of  face.  He  was 
a  prosperous  person,  too,  as  times  went,  and  he 
disliked  the  ''new-fangled,"  and  bothers  about 
the  future  and  the  lower  classes,  just  as  much 
as  the  ancestral  Morris  had  done.  He  did  not 
read  the  Times:  indeed,  he  did  not  know  there 
ever  had  been  a  Times — that  institution  had 
foundered  somewhere  in  the  intervening  gulf  of 
years ;  but  the  phonograph  machine,  that  talked 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  171 

to  him  as  he  made  his  toilet  of  a  morning, 
might  have  been  the  voice  of  a  reincarnated 
Blowitz  when  it  dealt  with  the  world's  affairs. 
This  phonographic  machine  was  the  size  and 
shape  of  a  Dutch  clock,  and  down  the  front  of 
it  were  electric  barometric  indicators,  and  an 
electric  clock  and  calendar,  and  automatic  en- 
gagement reminders,  and  where  the  clock 
would  have  been  was  the  mouth  of  a  trumpet. 
When  it  had  news  the  trumpet  gobbled  like  a 
turkey,  *'Galloop,  galloop,"  and  then  brayed  out 
its  message  as,  let  us  say,  a  trumpet  might 
bray.  It  would  tell  Mwres  in  full,  rich,  throaty 
tones  about  the  overnight  accidents  to  the  om- 
nibus flying-machines  that  plied  around  the 
world,  the  latest  arrivals  at  the  fashionable  re- 
sorts in  Tibet,  and  of  all  the  great  monopolist 
company  meetings  of  the  day  before,  while  he 
was  dressing.  If  Mwres  did  not  like  hearing 
what  it  said,  he  had  only  to  touch  a  stud,  and 
it  would  choke  a  little  and  talk  about  something 
else. 

Of  course  his  toilet  dififered  very  much  from 
that  of  his  ancestor.  It  is  doubtful  which  would 
have  been  the  more  shocked  and  pained  to  find 
himself  in  the  clothing  of  the  other.  Mwres 
would  certainly  have  sooner  gone  forth  to  the 
world  stark  naked  than  in  the  silk  hat,  frock 


172  Time  and  Space 


coat,  grey  trousers  and  watch-chain  that  had 
filled  Mr.  Morris  with  sombre  self-respect  in 
the  past.  For  Mwres  there  was  no  shaving  to 
do:  a  skilful  operator  had  long  ago  removed 
every  hair-root  from  his  face.  His  legs  he  en- 
cased in  pleasant  pink  and  amber  garments  of 
an  air-tight  material,  which  with  the  help  of  an 
ingenious  little  pump  he  distended  so  as  to  sug- 
gest enormous  muscles.  Above  this  he  also 
wore  pneumatic  garments  beneath  an  amber 
silk  tunic,  so  that  he  was  clothed  in  air  and  ad- 
mirably protected  against  sudden  extremes  of 
heat  or  cold.  Over  this  he  flung  a  scarlet  cloak 
with  its  edge  fantastically  curved.  On  his  head, 
which  had  been  skilfully  deprived  of  every 
scrap  of  hair,  he  adjusted  a  pleasant  little  cap 
of  bright  scarlet,  held  on  by  suction  and  inflated 
with  hydrogen,  and  curiously  like  the  comb  of 
a  cock.  So  his  toilet  was  complete;  and,  con- 
scious of  being  soberly  and  becomingly  attired, 
he  was  ready  to  face  his  fellow-beings  with  a 
tranquil  eye. 

This  Mwres — the  civility  of  "Mr."  had  van- 
ished ages  ago — was  one  of  the  officials  under 
the  Wind  Vane  and  Waterfall  Trust,  the  great 
company  that  owned  every  wind  wheel  and 
waterfall  in  the  world,  and  which  pumped  all 
the  water  and  supplied  all  the  electric  energy 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  173 

that  people  in  these  latter  days  required.  He 
lived  in  a  vast  hotel  near  that  part  of  London 
called  Seventh  Way,  and  had  very  large  and 
comfortable  apartments  on  the  seventeenth 
floor.  Households  and  family  life  had  long 
since  disappeared  with  the  progressive  refine- 
ment of  manners;  and  indeed  the  steady  rise  in 
rents  and  land  values,  the  disappearance  of  do- 
mestic servants,  the  elaboration  of  cookery,  had 
rendered  the  separate  domicile  of  Victorian 
times  impossible,  even  had  any  one  desired  such 
a  savage  seclusion.  When  his  toilet  was  com- 
pleted he  went  towards  one  of  the  two  doors  of 
his  apartment — there  were  doors  at  opposite 
ends,  each  marked  with  a  huge  arrow  pointing 
one  one  way  and  one  the  other — touched  a  stud 
to  open  it,  and  emerged  on  a  wide  passage,  the 
centre  of  which  bore  chairs  and  was  moving  at 
a  steady  pace  to  the  left.  On  some  of  these 
chairs  were  seated  gaily-dressed  men  and 
women.  He  nodded  to  an  acquaintance — it 
was  not  in  those  days  etiquette  to  talk  before 
breakfast — and  seated  himself  on  one  of  these 
chairs,  and  in  a  few  seconds  he  had  been  car- 
ried to  the  doors  of  a  lift,  by  which  he  descended 
to  the  great  and  splendid  hall  in  which  his 
breakfast  would  be  automatically  served. 

It  was  a  very  different  meal  from  a  Victorian 


174  Time  and  Space 


breakfast.  The  rude  masses  of  bread  needing 
to  be  carved  and  smeared  over  with  animal  fat 
before  they  could  be  made  palatable,  the  still 
recognisable  fragments  of  recently  killed  ani- 
mals, hideously  charred  and  hacked,  the  eggs 
torn  ruthlessly  from  beneath  some  protesting 
hen, — such  things  as  these,  though  they  consti- 
tuted the  ordinary  fare  of  Victorian  times, 
would  have  awakened  only  horror  and  disgust 
in  the  refined  minds  of  the  people  of  these  latter 
days.  Instead  were  pastes  and  cakes  of  agreea- 
ble and  variegated  design,  without  any  sugges- 
tion in  colour  or  form  of  the  unfortunate  ani- 
mals from  which  their  substance  and  juices 
were  derived.  They  appeared  on  little  dishes 
sliding  out  upon  a  rail  from  a  little  box  at  one 
side  of  the  table.  The  surface  of  the  table,  to 
judge  by  touch  and  eye,  would  have  appeared 
to  a  nineteenth-century  person  to  be  covered 
with  fine  white  damask,  but  this  was  really  an 
oxidised  metallic  surface,  and  could  be  cleaned 
instantly  after  a  meal.  There  were  hundreds  of 
such  little  tables  in  the  hall,  and  at  most  of 
them  were  other  latter-day  citizens  singly  or  in 
groups.  And  as  Mwres  seated  himself  before 
his  elegant  repast,  the  invisible  orchestra,  which 
had  been  resting  during  an  interval,  resumed 
and  filled  the  air  with  rnusic. 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  175 

But  Mwres  did  not  display  any  great  interest 
either  in  his  breakfast  or  the  music;  his  eye 
wandered  incessantly  about  the  hall,  as  though 
he  expected  a  belated  guest.  At  last  he  rose 
eagerly  and  waved  his  hand,  and  simultane- 
ously across  the  hall  appeared  a  tall  dark  figure 
in  a  costume  of  yellow  and  olive  greeny  As  this 
person,  walking  amidst  the  tables  with  meas- 
ured steps,  drew  near,  the  pallid  earnestness  of 
his  face  and  the  unusual  intensity  of  his  eyes 
became  apparent.  Mwres  reseated  himself  and 
pointed  to  a  chair  beside  him. 

^'I  feared  you  would  never  come,"  he  said. 
In  spite  of  the  intervening  space  of  time,  the 
English  language  was  still  almost  exactly  the 
same  as  it  had  been  in  England  under  Victoria 
the  Good.  The  invention  of  the  phonograph 
and  suchlike  means  of  recording  sound,  and 
the  gradual  replacement  of  books  by  such  con- 
trivances, had  not  only  saved  the  human  eye- 
sight from  decay,  but  had  also  by  the  establish- 
ment of  a  sure  standard  arrested  the  process 
of  change  in  accent  that  had  hitherto  been  so 
inevitable. 

''I  was  delayed  by  an  interesting  case,"  said 
the  man  in  green  and  yellow.  "A  prominent 
politician — ahem! — suffering  from  overwork." 


176  Time  and  Space 

He  glanced  at  the  breakfast  and  seated  himself. 
"I  have  been  awake  for  forty  hours." 

**Eh  dear!"  said  Mwres:  ''fancy  that!  You 
hypnotists  have  your  work  to  do." 

The  hypnotist  helped  himself  to  some  attrac- 
tive amber-coloured  jelly.  ''I  happen  to  be  a 
good  deal  in  request,"  he  said  modestly. 

''Heaven  knows  what  we  should  do  without 
you." 

"  Oh !  we're  not  so  indispensable  as  all  that," 
said  the  hypnotist,  ruminating  the  flavour  of 
the  jelly.  "The  world  did  very  well  without  us 
for  some  thousands  of  years.  Two  hundred 
years  ago  even — not  one !  In  practice,  that  is. 
Physicians  by  the  thousand,  of  course — fright- 
fully clumsy  brutes  for  the  most  part,  and  fol- 
lowing one  another  like  sheep — ^but  doctors  of 
the  mind,  except  a  few  empirical  flounderers 
there  were  none." 

He  concentrated  his  mind  on  the  jelly. 

"But  were  people  so  sane — ?"  began  Mwres. 

The  hypnotist  shook  his  head.  "It  didn't 
matter  then  if  they  were  a  bit  silly  or  faddy. 
Life  was  so  easy-going  then.  No  competition 
worth  speaking  of — no  pressure.  A  human  be- 
ing had  to  be  very  lopsided  before  anything 
happened.  Then,  you  know,  they  clapped  'em 
away  in  what  they  called  a  lunatic  asylum." 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  177 

'1  know,"  said  Mwres.  "In  these  confounded 
historical  romances  that  every  one  is  Ustening 
to,  they  always  rescue  a  beautiful  girl  from  an 
asylum  or  something  of  the  sort.  I  don't  know 
if  you  attend  to  that  rubbish." 

''I  must  confess  I  do,"  said  the  hypnotist.  "It 
carries  one  out  of  oneself  to  hear  of  those 
quaint,  adventurous,  half-civilised  days  of  the 
nineteenth  century,  when  men  were  stout  and 
women  simple.  I  like  a  good  swaggering  story 
before  all  things.  Curious  times  they  were, 
with  their  smutty  railways  and  puffing  old  iron 
trains,  their  rum  little  houses  and  their  horse 
vehicles.    I  suppose  you  don't  read  books?" 

"Dear,  no !"  said  Mwres,  "I  went  to  a  mod- 
ern school  and  we  had  none  of  that  old-fash- 
ioned nonsense.  Phonographs  are  good  enough 
for  me." 

"Of  course,"  said  the  hypnotist,  "of  course" ; 
and  surveyed  the  table  for  his  next  choice. 
"You  know,"  he  said,  helping  himself  to  a  dark 
blue  confection  that  promised  well,  "in  those 
days  our  business  was  scarcely  thought  of.  I 
daresay  if  any  one  had  told  them  that  in  two 
hundred  years'  time  a  class  of  men  would  be 
entirely  occupied  in  impressing  things  upon  the 
memory,  effacing  unpleasant  ideas,  controlling 
and  overcoming  instinctive  but  undesirable  im- 

M 


178  Time  and  Space 


pulses,  and  so  forth,  by  means  of  hypnotism, 
they  would  have  refused  to  believe  the  thing 
possible.  Few  people  knew  that  an  order  made 
during  a  mesmeric  trance,  even  an  order  to  for- 
get or  an  order  to  desire,  could  be  given  so  as 
to  be  obeyed  after  the  trance  was  over.  Yet 
there  were  men  alive  then  who  could  have  told 
them  the  thing  was  as  absolutely  certain  to 
come  about  as— well,  the  transit  of  Venus." 

"They  knew  of  hypnotism,  then  ?" 

"Oh,  dear,  yes !  They  used  it — for  painless 
dentistry  and  things  like  that !  This  blue  stuff 
is  confoundedly  good :  what  is  it  ?" 

"Haven't  the  faintest  idea,"  said  Mwres, 
"but  I  admit  it's  very  good.  Take  some  more." 

The  hypnotist  repeated  his  praises,  and  there 
was  an  appreciative  pause. 

"Speaking  of  these  historical  romances,"  said 
Mwres,  with  an  attempt  at  an  easy,  off-hand 
manner,  "brings  me — ah — to  the  matter  I— ah 
— had  in  mind  when  I  asked  you — when  I  ex- 
pressed a  wish  to  see  you."  He  paused  and  took 
a  deep  breath. 

The  hypnotist  turned  an  attentive  eye  upon 
him,  and  continued  eating. 

"The  fact  is,"  said  Mwres,  "I  have  a — in 
fact  a — daughter.  Well,  you  know  I  have 
given  her — ah — every  educational  advantage. 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  179 


Lectures — not  a  solitary  lecturer  of  ability  in 
the  world  but  she  has  had  a  telephone  direct, 
dancing,  deportment,  conversation,  philosophy, 
art  criticism.  .  .  "  He  indicated  catholic 
culture  by  a  gesture  of  his  hand.  ''1  had  in- 
tended her  to  marry  a  very  good  friend  of  mine 
— Bindon  of  the  Lighting  Commission — ^plain 
little  man,  you  know,  and  a  bit  unpleasant  in 
some  of  his  ways,  but  an  excellent  fellow  really 
— an  excellent  fellow." 

''Yes,''  said  the  hypnotist,  "go  on.  How  old 
is  she?" 

"Eighteen." 

"A  dangerous  age.  Well?" 

"Well :  it  seems  that  she  has  been  indulging 
in  these  historical  romances — excessively.  Ex- 
cessively. Even  to  the  neglect  of  her  philoso- 
phy. Filled  her  mind  with  unutterable  non- 
sense about  soldiers  who  fight — what  is  it? — 
Etruscans  ?" 

"Egyptians." 

"Egyptians — very  probably.  Hack  about 
with  swords  and  revolvers  and  things — blood- 
shed galore — horrible ! — and  about  young  men 
on  torpedo  catchers  who  blow  up — Spaniards,  I 
fancy — and  all  sorts  of  irregular  adventurers. 
And  she  has  got  it  into  her  head  that  she  must 
marry  for  Love,  and  that  poor  little  Bmdon — " 


i8o  Time  and  Space 


^IVe  met  similar  cases/'  said  the  hypnotist. 
"Who  is  the  other  young  man?" 

Mwres  maintained  an  appearance  of  resigned 
calm.  ''You  may  well  ask/'  he  said.  ''He  is" 
— and  his  voice  sank  with  shame — "a  mere  at- 
tendant upon  the  stage  on  which  the  flying-ma- 
chines from  Paris  alight.  He  has — as  they  say 
in  the  romances — good  looks.  He  is  quite 
young  and  very  eccentric.  Affects  the  antique 
— he  can  read  and  write !  So  can  she.  And  in- 
stead of  communicating  by  telephone,  like  sen- 
sible people,  they  write  and  deliver — what  is 
it?" 

"Notes?" 

"No — not  notes.    .    .    .    Ah — poems." 

The  hypnotist  raised  his  eyebrows.  "How 
did  she  meet  him?" 

"Tripped  coming  down  from  the  flying-ma- 
chine from  Paris — and  fell  into  his  arms.  The 
mischief  was  done  in  a  moment !" 

"Yes?" 

"Well — that's  all.  Things  rnust  be  stopped. 
That  is  what  I  want  to  consult  you  about. 
What  must  be  done?  What  can  be  done?  Of 
course  I'm  not  a  hypnotist;  my  knowledge  is 
limited.   But  you — ?" 

"Hypnotism  is  not  magic,"  said  the  man  in 
green,  putting  both  arms  on  the  table. 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  1 8 1 


precisely !   But  still— !" 

"People  cannot  be  hypnotised  without  their 
consent.  If  she  is  able  to  stand  out  against 
marrying  Bindon,  she  will  probably  stand  out 
against  being  hypnotised.  But  if  once  she  can 
be  hypnotised — even  by  somebody  else — the 
thing  is  done." 

"You  can—?" 

"Oh,  certainly !  Once  we  get  her  amenable, 
then  we  can  suggest  that  she  must  marry  Bin- 
don— that  that  is  her  fate;  or  that  the  young 
man  is  repulsive,  and  that  when  she  sees  him 
she  will  be  giddy  and  faint,  or  any  little  thing 
of  that  sort.  Or  if  we  can  get  her  into  a  suf- 
ficiently profound  trance  we  can  suggest  that 
she  should  forget  him  altogether — " 

"Precisely." 

"But  the  problem  is  to  gfet  her  hypnotised. 
Of  course  no  sort  of  proposal  or  suggestion 
must  come  from  you — because  no  doubt  she  al- 
ready distrusts  you  in  the  matter." 

The  hypnotist  leant  his  head  upon  his  arm 
and  thought. 

"It's  hard  a  man  cannot  dispose  of  his  own 
daughter,"  said  Mwres  irrelevantly. 

"You  must  give  me  the  name  and  address  of 
the  young  lady,"  said  the  hypnotist,  "and  any 


1 82  Time  and  Space 


information  bearing  upon  the  matter.  And,  by 
the  bye,  is  there  any  money  in  the  affair?" 
Mwres  hesitated. 

"There's  a  sum — in  fact,  a  considerable  sum 
— invested  in  the  Patent  Road  Company. 
From  her  mother.  That's  what  makes  the 
thing  so  exasperating." 

''Exactly,"  said  the  hypnotist.  And  he  pro- 
ceeded to  cross-examine  Mwres  on  the  entire 
affair. 

It  was  a  lengthy  interview. 

And  meanwhile  "ElizebeQ  Mwres,"  as  she 
spelt  her  name,  or  "Elizabeth  Morris"  as  a 
nineteenth-century  person  would  have  put  it, 
.  was  sitting  in  a  quiet  waiting-place  beneath  the 
great  stage  upon  which  the  flying-machine 
from  Paris  descended.  And  beside  her  sat  her 
slender,  handsome  lover  reading  her  the  poem 
he  had  written  that  morning  while  on  duty 
upon  the  stage.  When  he  had  finished  they  sat 
for  a  time  in  silence;  and  then,  as  if  for  their 
special  entertainment,  the  great  machine  that 
had  come  flying  through  the  air  from  America 
that  morning  rushed  down  out  of  the  sky. 

At  first  it  was  a  little  oblong,  faint  and  blue 
amidst  the  distant  fleecy  clouds;  and  then  it 
grew  swiftly  large  and  white,  and  larger  and 
whiter,  until  they  could  see  the  separate  tiers  of 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  183 

sails,  each  hundreds  of  feet  wide,  and  the  lank 
body  they  supported,  and  at  last  even  the 
swinging  seats  of  the  passengers  in  a  dotted 
row.  Although  it  was  falling  it  seemed  to  them 
to  be  rushing  up  the  sky,  and  over  the  roof- 
spaces  of  the  city  below  its  shadow  leapt  to- 
wards them.  They  heard  the  whistling  rush  of 
the  air  about  it  and  its  yelling  siren,  shrill  and 
swelling,  to  warn  those  who  were  on  its  land- 
ing-stage of  its  arrival.  And  abruptly  the  note 
fell  down  a  couple  of  octaves,  and  it  had  passed, 
and  the  sky  was  clear  and  void,  and  she  could 
turn  her  sweet  eyes  again  to  Denton  at  her  side. 

Their  silence  ended ;  and  Denton,  speaking  in 
a  little  language  of  broken  English  that  was, 
they  fancied,  their  private  possession — though 
lovers  have  used  such  little  languages  since  the 
world  began — told  her  how  they  too  would  leap 
into  the  air  one  morning  out  of  all  the  obstacles 
and  difficulties  about  them,  and  fly  to  a  sunlit 
city  of  delight  he  knew  of  in  Japan,  half-way 
about  the  world. 

She  loved  the  dream,  but  she  feared  the  leap ; 
and  she  put  him  ofif  with  "Some  day,  dearest 
one,  some  day,"  to  all  his  pleading  that  it  might 
be  soon ;  and  at  last  came  a  shrilling  of  whistles, 
and  it  was  time  for  him  to  go  back  to  his  duties 
on  the  stage.    They  parted — as  lovers  have 


1 84  Time  and  Space 

been  wont  to  part  for  thousands  of  years.  She 
walked  down  a  passage  to  a  Hft,  and  so  came  to 
one  of  the  streets  of  that  latter-day  London,  all 
glazed  in  with  glass  from  the  weather,  and 
with  incessant  moving  platforms  that  went  to 
all  parts  of  the  city.  And  by  one  of  these  she 
returned  to  her  apartments  in  the  Hotel  for 
Women  where  she  lived,  the  apartments  that 
were  in  telephonic  communication  with  all  the 
best  lecturers  in  the  world.  But  the  sunlight 
of  the  flying  stage  was  in  her  heart,  and  the 
wisdom  of  all  the  best  lecturers  in  the  world 
seemed  folly  in  that  light. 

She  spent  the  middle  part  of  the  day  in  the 
gymnasium,  and  took  her  midday  meal  with 
two  other  girls  and  their  common  chaperone — 
for  it  was  still  the  custom  to  have  a  chaperone 
in  the  case  of  motherless  girls  of  the  more  pros- 
perous classes.  The  chaperone  had  a  visitor 
that  day,  a  man  in  green  and  yellow,  with  a 
white  face  and  vivid  eyes,  who  talked  amaz- 
ingly. Among  other  things,  he  fell  to  praising 
a  new  historical  romance  that  one  of  the  great 
popular  story-tellers  of  the  day  had  just  put 
forth.  It  was,  of  course,  about  the  spacious 
times  of  Queen  Victoria;  and  the  author, 
among  other  pleasing  novelties,  made  a  little 
argument  before  each  section  of  the  story,  in 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  185 


imitation  of  the  chapter  headings  of  the  old- 
fashioned  books:  as  for  example,  ''How  the 
Cabmen  of  Pimlico  stopped  the  Victoria  Omni- 
buses, and  of  the  Great  Fight  in  Palace  Yard," 
and  ''How  the  Piccadilly  Policeman  was  slain 
in  the  midst  of  his  Duty."  The  man  in  green 
and  yellow  praised  this  innovation.  "These 
pithy  sentences,"  he  said,  "are  admirable. 
They  show  at  a  glance  those  headlong,  tumult- 
uous times,  when  men  and  animals  jostled  in 
the  filthy  streets,  and  death  might  wait  for  one 
at  every  corner.  Life  was  life  then!  How 
great  the  world  must  have  seemed  then !  How 
marvellous !  They  were  still  parts  of  the  world 
absolutely  unexplored.  Nowadays  we  have  al- 
most abolished  wonder,  we  lead  lives  so  trim 
and  orderly  that  courage,  endurance,  faith,  all 
the  noble  virtues  seem  fading  from  mankind." 

And  so  on,  taking  the  girls'  thoughts  with 
him,  until  the  life  they  led,  life  in  the  vast  and 
intricate  London  of  the  twenty-second  century, 
a  life  interspersed  with  soaring  excursions  to 
every  part  of  the  globe,  seemed  to  them  a  mo- 
notonous misery  compared  with  the  daedal  past. 

At  first  Elizabeth  did  not  join  in  the  conver- 
sation, but  after  a  time  the  subject  became  so 
interesting  that  she  made  a  few  shy  interpola- 
tions.  But  he  scarcely  seemed  to  notice  her  as 


1 86  Time  and  Space 


he  talked.  He  went  on  to  describe  a  new 
method  of  entertaining  people.  They  were 
hypnotised,  and  then  suggestions  were  made  to 
them  so  skilfully  that  they  seemed  to  be  living 
in  ancient  times  again.  They  played  out  a  little 
romance  in  the  past  as  vivid  as  reality,  and 
when  at  last  they  awakened  they  remembered 
all  they  had  been  through  as  though  it  were  a 
real  thing. 

^'It  is  a  thing  we  have  sought  to  do  for  years 
and  years,"  said  the  hypnotist.  "It  is  prac- 
tically an  artificial  dream.  And  we  know  the 
way  at  last.  Think  of  all  it  opens  out  to  us — 
the  enrichment  of  our  experience,  the  recovery 
of  adventure,  the  refuge  it  ofifers  from  this 
sordid,  competitive  life  in  which  we  live! 
Think  r 

"And  you  can  do  that!"  said  the  chaperone 
eagerly. 

"The  thing  is  possible  at  last,"  the  hypnotist 
said.    "You  may  order  a  dream  as  you  wish." 

The  chaperone  was  the  first  to  be  hypnotised, 
and  the  dream,  she  said,  was  wonderful,  when 
she  came  to  again. 

The  other  two  girls,  encouraged  by  her  en- 
thusiasm, also  placed  themselves  in  the  hands 
of  the  hypnotist  and  had  plunges  into  the  ro- 
mantic past.   No  one  suggested  that  Elizabeth 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  187 


should  try  this  novel  entertainment;  it  was  at 
her  own  request  at  last  that  she  was  taken  into 
that  land  of  dreams  where  there  is  neither  any 
freedom  of  choice  nor  will.    .    .  . 

And  so  the  mischief  was  done. 

One  day,  when  Denton  went  down  to  that 
quiet  seat  beneath  the  flying  stage,  Elizabeth 
was  not  in  her  wonted  place.  He  was  disap- 
pointed, and  a  little  angry.  The  next  day  she 
did  not  come,  and  the  next  also.  He  was  afraid. 
To  hide  his  fear  from  himself,  he  set  to  work 
to  write  sonnets  for  her  when  she  should  come 
again.    .  . 

For  three  days  he  fought  against  his  dread 
by  such  distraction,  and  then  the  truth  was  be- 
fore him  clear  and  cold,  and  would  not  be 
denied.  She  might  be  ill,  she  might  be  dead; 
but  he  would  not  believe  that  he  had  been  be- 
trayed. There  followed  a  week  of  misery. 
And  then  he  knew  she  was  the  only  thing  on 
earth  worth  having,  and  that  he  must  seek  her, 
however  hopeless  the  search,  until  she  was 
found  once  more. 

He  had  some  small  private  means  of  his  own, 
and  so  he  threw  over  his  appointment  on  the 
flying  stage,  and  set  himself  to  find  this  girl 
who  had  become  at  last  all  the  world  to  him. 
He  did  not  know  where  she  lived,  and  little  of 


1 88  Time  and  Space 

her  circumstances;  for  it  had  been  part  of  the 
delight  of  her  giriish  romance  that  he  should 
know  nothing  of  her,  nothing  of  the  difference 
of  their  station.  The  ways  of  the  city  opened 
before  him  east  and  west,  north  and  south. 
Even  in  Victorian  days  London  was  a  maze, 
that  little  London  with  its  poor  four  millions  of 
people;  but  the  London  he  explored,  the  Lon- 
don of  the  twenty-second  century,  was  a  Lon- 
don of  thirty  million  souls.  At  first  he  was 
energetic  and  headlong,  taking  time  neither  to 
eat  nor  sleep.  He  sought  for  weeks  and 
months,  he  went  through  every  imaginable 
phase  of  fatigue  and  despair,  over-excitement 
and  anger.  Long  after  hope  was  dead,  by  the 
sheer  inertia  of  his  desire  he  still  went  to  and 
fro,  peering  into  faces  and  looking  this  way  and 
that,  in  the  incessant  ways  and  lifts  and  passages 
of  that  interminable  hive  of  men. 

At  last  chance  was  kind  to  him,  and  he  saw 
her. 

It  was  in  a  time  of  festivity.  He  was  hungry ; 
he  had  paid  the  inclusive  fee  and  had  gone  into 
one  of  the  gigantic  dining-places  of  the  city ;  he 
was  pushing  his  way  among  the  tables  and 
scrutinising  by  mere  force  of  habit  every  group 
he  passed. 

He  stood  still,  robbed  of  all  power  of  mo- 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  189 

tion,  his  eyes  wide,  his  lips  apart.  Elizabeth 
sat  scarcely  twenty  yards  away  from  him,  look- 
"ing  straight  at  him.  Her  eyes  were  as  hard  to 
him,  as  hard  and  expressionless  and  void  of 
recognition,  as  the  eyes  of  a  statue. 

She  looked  at  him  for  a  moment,  and  then 
her  gaze  passed  beyond  him. 

Had  he  had  only  her  eyes  to  judge  by  he 
might  have  doubted  if  it  was  indeed  Elizabeth, 
but  he  knew  her  by  the  gesture  of  her  hand,  by 
the  grace  of  a  wanton  little  curl  that  floated 
over  her  ear  as  she  moved  her  head.  Some- 
thing was  said  to  her,  and  she  turned  smiling 
tolerantly  to  the  man  beside  her,  a  little  man  in 
foolish  raiment  knobbed  and  spiked  like  some 
odd  reptile  with  pneumatic  horns — the  Bindon 
of  her  father's  choice. 

For  a  moment  Denton  stood  white  and  wild- 
eyed  ;  then  came  a  terrible  f aintness,  and  he  sat 
before  one  of  the  little  tables.  He  sat  down 
with  his  back  to  her,  and  for  a  time  he  did  not 
dare  to  look  at  her  again.  When  at  last  he  did, 
she  and  Bindon  and  two  other  people  were 
standing  up  to  go.  The  others  were  her  father 
and  her  chaperone. 

He  sat  as  if  incapable  of  action  until  the  four 
figures  were  remote  and  small,  and  then  he  rose 
up  possessed  with  the  one  idea  of  pursuit.  For 


190  Time  and  Space 


a  space  he  feared  he  had  lost  them,  and  then  he 
came  upon  EHzabeth  and  her  chaperone  again 
in  one  of  the  streets  of  moving  platforms  that 
intersected  the  city.  Bindon  and  Mwres  had 
disappeared. 

He  could  not  control  himself  to  patience.  He 
felt  he  must  speak  to  her  forthwith,  or  die.  He 
pushed  forward  to  where  they  were  seated,  and 
sat  down  beside  them.  His  white  face  was  con- 
vulsed with  half-hysterical  excitement. 

He  laid  his  hand  on  her  wrist.  "Elizabeth 
he  said. 

She  turned  in  unfeigned  astonishment. 
Nothing  but  the  fear  of  a  strange  man  showed 
in  her  face. 

'^Elizabeth,"  he  cried,  and  his  voice  was 
strange  to  him :  "dearest — you  know  me?'' 

Elizabeth's  face  showed  nothing  but  alarm 
and  perplexity.  She  drew  herself  away  from 
him.  The  chaperone,  a  little  grey-headed  . 
woman  with  mobile  features,  leant  forward  to 
intervene.  Her  resolute  bright  eyes  examined 
Denton.   ^'What  do  you  say?"  she  asked. 

"This  young  lady,"   said  Denton, — "she 
knows  me." 

"Do  you  know  him,  dear?" 

"No,"  said  Elizabeth  in  a  strange  voice,  and 
with  a  hand  to  her  forehead,  speaking  almost 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  191 


as  one  who  repeats  a  lesson.  "No,  I  do  not 
know  him.   I  know — I  do  not  know  him." 

"But — but.  .  .  .  Not  know  me !  It  is  I 
— Denton.  Denton!  To  whom  you  used  to 
talk.  Don't  you  remember  the  flying  stages? 
The  little  seat  in  the  open  air?  The  verses — " 

"No,"  cried  Elizabeth, — "no.  I  do  not  know 
him.  I  do  not  know  him.  There  is  some- 
thing. .  .  .  But  I  don't  know.  All  I  know 
is  that  I  do  not  know  him."  Her  face  was  a 
face  of  infinite  distress. 

The  sharp  eyes  of  the  chaperone  flitted  to  and 
fro  from  the  girl  to  the  man.  "You  see?"  she 
said,  with  the  faint  shadow  of  a  smile.  "She 
does  not  know  you." 

"I  do  not  know  you,"  said  Elizabeth.  "Of 
that  I  am  sure." 

"But,  dear — the  songs — the  little  verses — " 

"She  does  not  know  you,"  said  the  chaper- 
one. "You  must  not.  .  .  .  You  have 
made  a  mistake.  You  must  not  go  on  talking 
to  us  after  that.  You  must  not  annoy  us  on  the 
public  ways." 

"But — "  said  Denton,  and  for  a  moment  his 
miserably  haggard  face  appealed  against  fate. 

"You  must  not  persist,  young  man,"  pro- 
tested the  chaperone. 

''Elisabeth  r  he  cried. 


192  Time  and  Space 


Her  face  was  the  face  of  one  who  is  tor- 
mented. '1  do  not  know  you,"  she  cried,  hand 
to  brow.   ''Oh,  I  do  not  know  you  !" 

For  an  instant  Denton  sat  stunned.  Then  he 
stood  up  and  groaned  aloud. 

He  made  a  strange  gesture  of  appeal  towards 
the  remote  glass  roof  of  the  public  way,  then 
turned  and  went  plunging  recklessly  from  one 
moving  platform  to  another,  and  vanished 
amidst  the  swarms  of  people  going  to  and  fro 
thereon.  The  chaperone's  eyes  followed  him, 
and  then  she  looked  at  the  curious  faces  about 
her. 

''Dear,"  asked  Elizabeth,  clasping  her  hand, 
and  too  deeply  moved  to  heed  observation, 
"who  was  that  man?  Who  was  that  man?" 

The  chaperone  raised  her  eyebrows.  She 
spoke  in  a  clear,  audible  voice.  "Some  half- 
witted creature.  I  have  never  set  eyes  on  him 
before." 

"Never?" 

"Never,  dear.  Do  not  trouble  your  mind 
about  a  thing  like  this." 

And  soon  after  this  the  celebrated  hypnotist 
who  dressed  in  green  and  yellow  had  another 
client.  The  young  man  paced  his  consulting- 
room,  pale  and  disordered.  "I  want  to  forget," 
he  cried.   "I  must  forget." 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  193 

The  hypnotist  watched  him  with  quiet  eyes, 
studied  his  face  and  clothes  and  bearing.  "To 
forget  anything — pleasure  or  pain — is  to  be,  by 
so  much — less.  However,  you  know  your  own 
concern.   My  fee  is  high." 

'Tf  only  I  can  forget — " 

'That's  easy  enough  with  you.  You  wish 
it.  I've  done  much  harder  things.  Quite  re- 
cently. I  hardly  expected  to  do  it:  the  thing 
was  done  against  the  will  of  the  hypnotised 
person.  A  love  affair  too — like  yours.  A  girl. 
So  rest  assured.'' 

The  young  man  came  and  sat  beside  the 
hypnotist.  His  manner  was  a  forced  calm.  He 
looked  into  the  hypnotist's  eyes.  "I  will  tell 
you.  Of  course  you  will  want  to  know  what 
it  is.  There  was  a  girl.  Her  name  was  Eliza- 
beth Mwres.    Well.  ..." 

He  stopped.  He  had  seen  the  instant  sur- 
prise on  the  hypnotist's  face.  In  that  instant 
he  knew.  He  stood  up.  He  seemed  to  domi- 
nate the  seated  figure  by  his  side.  He  gripped 
the  shoulder  of  green  and  gold.  For  a  time  he 
could  not  find  words. 

''Give  her  me  hack!"  he  said  at  last.  "Give 
her  me  back !" 

''What  do  you  mean?"  gasped  the  hypnotist. 

"Give  her  me  back." 


194  Thne  and  Space 


''Give  whom  ?" 

''Elizabeth  Mwres — the  girl — " 

The  hypnotist  tried  to  free  himself;  he  rose 
to  his  feet.    Denton's  grip  tightened. 

"Let  go!"  cried  the  hypnotist,  thrusting  an 
arm  against  Denton's  chest. 

In  a  moment  the  two  men  were  locked  in  a 
clumsy  wrestle.  Neither  had  the  slightest 
training — for  athleticism,  except  for  exhibition 
and  to  afford  opportunity  for  betting,  had 
faded  out  of  the  earth — ^but  Denton  was  not 
only  the  younger  but  the  stronger  of  the  two. 
They  swayed  across  the  room,  and  then  the 
hypnotist  had  gone  down  under  his  antagonist. 
They  fell  together.    .    .  . 

Denton  leaped  to  his  feet,  dismayed  at  his 
own  fury;  but  the  hypnotist  lay  still,  and  sud- 
denly from  a  little  white  mark  where  his  fore- 
head had  struck  a  stool  shot  a  hurrying  band 
of  red.  For  a  space  Denton  stood  over  him 
irresolute,  trembling. 

A  fear  of  the  consequences  entered  his  gently 
nurtured  mind.  He  turned  towards  the  door. 
"No,"  he  said  aloud,  and  came  back  to  the  mid- 
dle of  the  room.  Overcoming  the  instinctive 
repugnance  of  one  who  had  seen  no  act  of  vio- 
lence in  all  his  life  before,  he  knelt  down  beside 
his  antagonist  and  felt  his  heart.   Then  he 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  195 


peered  at  the  wound.  He  rose  quietly  and 
looked  about  him.  He  began  to  see  more  of 
the  situation. 

When  presently  the  hypnotist  recovered  his 
senses,  his  head  ached  severely,  his  back  was 
against  Denton's  knees  and  Denton  was  spong- 
ing his  face. 

The  hypnotist  did  not  speak.  But  presently 
he  indicated  by  a  gesture  that  in  his  opinion  he 
had  been  sponged  enough.  "Let  me  get  up," 
he  said. 

''Not  yet,"  said  Denton. 

''You  have  assaulted  me,  you  scoundrel !" 

"We  are  alone,"  said  Denton,  "and  the  door 
is  secure." 

There  was  an  interval  of  thought. 

"Unless  I  sponge,"  said  Denton,  "your  fore- 
head will  develop  a  tremendous  bruise." 

"You  can  go  on  sponging,"  said  the  hypno- 
tist sulkily. 

There  was  another  pause. 

"We  might  be  in  the  Stone  Age,"  said  the 
hypnotist.   "Violence !   Struggle !" 

"In  the  Stone  Age  no  man  dared  to  come  be- 
tween man  and  woman,"  said  Denton. 

The  hypnotist  thought  again. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  ?"  he  asked. 

"While  you  were  insensible  I  found  the  girl's 


196  Time  and  Space 

address  on  your  tablets.  I  did  not  know  it  be- 
fore. I  telephoned.  She  will  be  here  soon. 
Then—" 

"She  will  bring  her  chaperone." 

"That  is  all  right." 

"But  what — ?  I  don't  see.  What  do  you 
mean  to  do  ?" 

"I  looked  about  for  a  weapon  also.  It  is  an 
astonishing  thing  how  few  weapons  there  are 
nowadays.  If  you  consider  that  in  the  Stone 
Age  men  owned  scarcely  anything  but  weapons. 
I  hit  at  last  upon  this  lamp.  I  have  wrenched 
off  the  wires  and  things,  and  I  hold  it  so."  He 
extended  it  over  the  hypnotist's  shoulders. 
"With  that  I  can  quite  easily  smash  your  skull. 
I  will — unless  you  do  as  I  tell  you." 

"Violence  is  no  remedy,"  said  the  hypnotist, 
quoting  from  the  "Modern  Man's  Book  of 
Moral  Maxims." 

"It's  an  undesirable  disease,"  said  Denton. 

"Well?" 

"You  will  tell  that  chaperone  you  are  going 
to  order  the  girl  to  marry  that  knobby  little 
brute  with  the  red  hair  and  ferrety  eyes.  I  be- 
lieve that's  how  things  stand  ?" 

"Yes — that's  how  things  stand." 

"And,  pretending  to  do  that,  you  will  restore 
her  memory  of  me." 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  197 


"It's  unprofessional." 

''Look  here!  If  I  cannot  have  that  girl  I 
would  rather  die  than  not.  I  don't  propose  to 
respect  your  little  fancies.  If  anything  goes 
wrong  you  shall  not  live  five  minutes.  This  is 
a  rude  makeshift  of  a  weapon,  and  it  may  quite 
conceivably  be  painful  to  kill  you.  But  I  will. 
It  is  unusual,  I  know,  nowadays  to  do  things 
like  this — mainly  because  there  is  so  little  in 
life  that  is  worth  being  violent  about." 

''The  chaperone  will  see  you  directly  she 
comes — " 

"I  shall  stand  in  that  recess.    Behind  you." 

The  hypnotist  thought.  "You  are  a  deter- 
mined young  man,"  he  said,  "and  only  half 
civilised.  I  have  tried  to  do  my  duty  to  my 
client,  but  in  this  affair  you  seem  likely  to  get 
your  own  way.    .    .  ." 

"You  mean  to  deal  straightly." 

"I'm  not  going  to  risk  having  my  brains 
scattered  in  a  petty  af¥air  like  this." 

"And  afterwards  ?" 

"There  is  nothing  a  hypnotist  or  doctor  hates 
so  much  as  a  scandal.  I  at  least  am  no  savage. 
I  am  annoyed.  .  .  .  But  in  a  day  or  so  I 
shall  bear  no  malice.    .    .  ." 

"Thank  you.   And  now  that  we  understand 


198  Time  and  Space 


each  other,  there  is  no  necessity  to  keep  you 
sitting  any  longer  on  the  floor." 

II  THE  VACANT  COUNTRY 

The  world,  they  say,  changed  more  between 
the  year  1800  and  the  year  1900  than  it  had 
done  in  the  previous  five  hundred  years.  That 
century,  the  nineteenth  century,  was  the  dawn 
of  a  new  epoch  in  the  history  of  mankind — the 
epoch  of  the  great  cities,  the  end  of  the  old 
order  of  country  life. 

In  the  beginning  of  the  nineteenth  century 
the  majority  of  mankind  still  lived  upon  the 
countryside,  as  their  way  of  life  had  been  for 
countless  generations.  All  over  the  world  they 
dwelt  in  little  towns  and  villages  then,  and  en- 
gaged either  directly  in  agriculture,  or  in  oc- 
cupations that  were  of  service  to  the  agricul- 
turist. They  travelled  rarely,  and  dwelt  close 
to  their  work,  because  swift  means  of  transit 
had  not  yet  come.  The  few  who  travelled  went 
either  on  foot,  or  in  slow  sailing-ships,  or  by 
means  of  jogging  horses  incapable  of  more  than 
sixty  miles  a  day.  Think  of  it  !^ — sixty  miles  a 
day.  Here  and  there,  in  those  sluggish  times, 
a  town  grew  a  little  larger  than  its  neighbours, 
as  a  port  or  as  a  centre  of  government ;  but  all 
the  towns  in  the  world  with  more  than  a  hun- 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  199 


dred  thousand  inhabitants  could  be  counted  on 
a  man's  fingers.  So  it  was  in  the  beginning  of 
the  nineteenth  century.  By  the  end,  the  in- 
vention of  railways,  telegraphs,  steamships,  and 
complex  agricultural  machinery,  had  changed 
all  these  things :  changed  them  beyond  all  hope 
of  return.  The  vast  shops,  the  varied  pleasures, 
the  countless  conveniences  of  the  larger  towns 
were  suddenly  possible,  and  no  sooner  existed 
than  they  were  brought  into  competition  with 
the  homely  resources  of  the  rural  centres. 
Mankind  were  drawn  to  the  cities  by  an  over- 
whelming attraction.  The  demand  for  labour 
fell  with  the  increase  of  machinery,  the  local 
markets  were  entirely  superseded,  and  there 
was  a  rapid  growth  of  the  larger  centres  at  the 
expense  of  the  open  country. 

The  flow  of  population  townward  was  the 
constant  preoccupation  of  Victorian  writers.  In 
Great  Britain  and  New  England,  in  India  and 
China,  the  same  thing  was  remarked:  every- 
where a  few  swollen  towns  were  visibly  re- 
placing the  ancient  order.  That  this  was  an  in- 
evitable result  of  improved  means  of  travel  and 
transport — that,  given  swift  means  of  transit, 
these  things  must  be — was  realised  by  few ;  and 
the  most  puerile  schemes  were  devised  to  over- 


200  Time  and  Space 


come  the  mysterious  magnetism  of  the  urban 
centres,  and  keep  the  people  on  the  land. 

Yet  the  developments  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury were  only  the  dawning  of  the  new  order. 
The  first  great  cities  of  the  new  time  were  hor- 
ribly inconvenient,  darkened  by  smoky  fogs,  in- 
sanitary and  noisy;  but  the  discovery  of  new 
methods  of  building,  new  methods  of  heating, 
changed  all  this.  Between  1900  and  2000  the 
march  of  change  was  still  more  rapid ;  and  be- 
tween 2000  and  2100  the  continually  acceler- 
ated progress  of  human  invention  made  the 
reign  of  Victoria  the  Good  seem  at  last  an  al- 
most incredible  vision  of  idyllic  tranquil  days. 

The  introduction  of  railways  was  only  the 
first  step  in  that  development  of  those  means 
of  locomotion  which  finally  revolutionised  hu- 
man life.  By  the  year  2000  railways  and  roads 
had  vanished  together.  The  railways,  robbed 
of  their  rails,  had  become  weedy  ridges  and 
ditches  upon  the  face  of  the  world;  the  old 
roads,  strange  barbaric  tracks  of  flint  and  soil, 
hammered  by  hand  or  rolled  by  rough  iron  roll- 
ers, strewn  with  miscellaneous  filth,  and  cut  by 
iron  hoofs  and  wheels  into  ruts  and  puddles 
often  many  inches  deep,  had  been  replaced  by 
patent  tracks  made  of  a  substance  called  Eadha- 
mite.   This  Eadhamite — it  was  named  after  its 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  201 


patentee — ranks  with  the  invention  of  printing 
and  steam  as  one  of  the  epoch-makng  discov- 
eries of  the  world's  history. 

When  Eadham  discovered  the  substance,  he 
probably  thought  of  it  as  a  mere  cheap  substi- 
tute for  india  rubber;  it  cost  a  few  shillings  a 
ton.  But  you  can  never  tell  all  an  invention 
will  do.  It  was  the  genius  of  a  man  named 
Warming  that  pointed  to  the  possibility  of 
using  it,  not  only  for  the  tires  of  wheels,  but 
as  a  road  substance,  and  who  organised  the 
enormous  network  of  public  ways  that  speedily 
covered  the  world. 

These  public  ways  were  made  with  longitu- 
dinal divisions.  On  the  outer  on  either  side 
went  foot  cyclists  and  conveyances  travelling  at 
a  less  speed  than  twenty-five  miles  an  hour ;  in 
the  middle,  motors  capable  of  speed  up  to  a 
hundred;  and  the  inner,  Warming  (in  the  face 
of  enormous  ridicule)  reserved  for  vehicles 
travelling  at  speeds  of  a  hundred  miles  an  hour 
and  upward. 

For  ten  years  his  inner  ways  were  vacant. 
Before  he  died  they  were  the  most  crowded  of 
all,  and  vast  light  frameworks  with  wheels  of 
twenty  and  thirty  feet  in  diameter,  hurled  along 
them  at  paces  that  year  after  year  rose  steadily 
towards  two  hundred  miles  an  hour.    And  by 


20  2  Time  and  Space 


the  time  this  revolution  was  accomplished,  a 
parallel  revolution  had  transformed  the  ever- 
growing cities.  Before  the  development  of 
practical  science  the  fogs  and  filth  of  Victorian 
times  vanished.  Electric  heating  replaced  fires 
(in  2013  the  lighting  of  a  fire  that  did  not  ab- 
solutely consume  its  own  smoke  was  made  an 
indictable  nuisance),  and  all  the  city  ways,  all 
public  squares  and  places,  were  covered  in  with 
a  recently  invented  glass-like  substance.  The 
roofing  of  London  became  practically  continu- 
ous. Certain  short-sighted  and  foolish  legisla- 
tion against  tall  buildings  was  abolished,  and 
London,  from  a  squat  expanse  of  petty  houses 
— feebly  archaic  in  design — rose  steadily  to- 
wards the  sky.  To  the  municipal  responsibility 
for  water,  light,  and  drainage,  was  added  an- 
other, and  that  was  ventilation. 

But  to  tell  of  all  the  changes  in  human  con- 
venience that  these  two  hundred  years  brought 
about,  to  tell  of  the  long  foreseen  invention  of 
flying,  to  describe  how  life  in  households  was 
steadily  supplanted  by  life  in  interminable 
hotels,  how  at  last  even  those  who  were  still 
concerned  in  agricultural  work  came  to  live  in 
the  towns  and  to  go  to  and  fro  to  their  work 
every  day,  to  describe  how  at  last  in  all  Eng- 
land only  four  towns  remained,  each  with  many 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  203 


millions  of  people,  and  how  there  were  left  no 
inhabited  houses  in  all  the  countryside :  to  tell 
all  this  would  take  us  far  from  our  story  of 
Denton  and  his  Elizabeth.   They  had  been  sep- 
arated and  reunited,  and  still  they  could  not 
marry.    For  Denton — it  was  his  only  fault — 
had  no  money.   Neither  had  Elizabeth  until  she 
was  twenty-one,  and  as  yet  she  was  only  eight- 
een.   At  twenty-one  all  the  property  of  her 
mother  would  come  to  her,  for  that  was  the 
custom  of  the  time.    She  did  not  know  that  it 
was  possible  to  anticipate  her  fortune,  and  Den- 
ton was  far  too  delicate  a  lover  to  suggest  such 
a  thing.    So  things  stuck  hopelessly  between 
them.    Elizabeth  said  that  she  was  very  un- 
happy, and  that  nobody  understood  her  but 
Denton,  and  that  when  she  was  away  from  him 
she  was  wretched;  and  Denton  said  that  his 
heart  longed  for  her  day  and  night.   And  they 
met  as  often  as  they  could  to  enjoy  the  discus- 
sion of  their  sorrows. 

They  met  one  day  at  their  little  seat  upon  the 
flying  stage.  The  precise  site  of  this  meeting 
was  where  in  Victorian  times  the  road  from 
Wimbledon  came  out  upon  the  common.  They 
were,  however,  five  hundred  feet  above  that 
point.  Their  seat  looked  far  over  London.  To 
convey  the  appearance  of  it  all  to  a  nineteenth- 


\ 


204  Time  and  Space 


century  reader  would  have  been  difficult.  One 
would  have  had  to  tell  him  to  think  of  the  Crys- 
tal Palace,  of  the  newly  built  ''mammoth"  ho- 
tels— ^as  those  little  affairs  were  called — of  the 
larger  railway  stations  of  his  time,  and  to  im- 
agine such  buildings  enlarged  to  vast  propor- 
tions and  run  together  and  continuous  over  the 
whole  metropolitan  area.  If  then  he  was  told 
that  this  continuous  roof-space  bore  a  huge  for- 
est of  rotating  wind-wheels,  he  would  have  be- 
gun very  dimly  to  appreciate  what  to  these 
young  people  was  the  commonest  sight  in  their 
lives. 

To  their  eyes  it  had  something  of  the  quality 
of  a  prison,  and  they  were  talking,  as  they  had 
talked  a  hundred  times  before,  of  how  they 
might  escape  from  it  and  be  at  last  happy  to- 
gether: escape  from  it,  that  is,  before  the  ap- 
pointed three  years  were  at  an  end.  It  was, 
they  both  agreed,  not  only  impossible  but  al- 
most wicked,  to  wait  three  years.  "Before 
that,"  said  Denton — and  the  notes  of  his  voice 
told  of  a  splendid  chest — ^^we  might  both  be 
dead!" 

Their  vigorous  young  hands  had  to  grip  at 
this,  and  then  Elizabeth  had  a  still  more  poig- 
nant thought  that  brought  the  tears  from  her 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  205 

wholesome  eyes  and  down  her  healthy  cheeks. 
''One  of  us,"  she  said,  ''one  of  us  might  be — 

She  choked ;  she  could  not  say  the  word  that 
,   is  so  terrible  to  the  young  and  happy. 

Yet  to  marry  and  be  very  poor  in  the  cities  of 
that  time  was— for  any  one  who  had  lived 
pleasantly — a  very  dreadful  thing.  In  the  old 
agricultural  days  that  had  drawn  to  an  end  in 
the  eighteenth  century  there  had  been  a  pretty 
proverb  of  love  in  a  cottage;  and  indeed  in 
those  days  the  poor  of  the  countryside  had 
dwelt  in  flower-covered,  diamond-windowed 
cottages  of  thatch  and  plaster,  with  the  sweet 
air  and  earth  about  them,  amidst  tangled 
hedges  and  the  song  of  birds,  and  with  the 
ever-changing  sky  overhead.  But  all  this  had 
changed  (the  change  was  already  beginning  in 
the  nineteenth  century),  and  a  new  sort  of  life 
was  opening  for  the  poor — in  the  lower  quar- 
ters of  the  city. 

In  the  nineteenth  century  the  lower  quarters 
were  still  beneath  the  sky;  they  were  areas  of 
land  on  clay  or  other  unsuitable  soil,  liable  to 
floods  or  exposed  to  the  smoke  of  more  fortu- 
nate districts,  insufiiciently  supplied  with  water, 
and  as  insanitary  as  the  great  fear  of  infectious 
diseases  felt  by  the  wealthier  classes  permitted. 
In  the  twenty-second  century,  however,  the 


2o6  Time  and  Space 


growth  of  the  city  storey  above  storey,  and  the 
coalescence  of  buildings,  had  led  to  a  different 
arrangement.  The  prosperous  people  lived  in 
a  vast  series  of  sumptuous  hotels  in  the  upper 
storeys  and  halls  of  the  city  fabric;  the  indus- 
trial population  dwelt  beneath  in  the  tremen- 
dous ground-floor  and  basement,  so  to  speak, 
of  the  place. 

In  the  refinement  of  life  and  manners  these 
lower  classes  differed  little  from  their  ancestors, 
the  East-enders  of  Queen  Victoria's  time;  but 
they  had  developed  a  distinct  dialect  of  their 
own.  In  these  under  ways  they  lived  and  died, 
rarely  ascending  to  the  surface  except  when 
work  took  them  there.  Since  for  most  of  them 
this  was  the  sort  of  life  to  which  they  had  been 
born,  they  found  no  great  misery  in  such  cir- 
cumstances; but  for  people  like  Denton  and 
Elizabeth,  such  a  plunge  would  have  seemed 
more  terrible  than  death. 

"And  yet  what  else  is  there?''  asked  Eliza- 
beth. 

Denton  professed  not  to  know.  Apart  from 
his  own  feeling  of  delicacy,  he  was  not  sure 
how  Elizabeth  would  like  the  idea  of  borrow- 
ing on  the  strength  of  her  expectations. 

The  passage  from  London  to  Paris  even, 
said  Elizabeth,  was  beyond  their  means ;  and  in 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  207 


Paris,  as  in  any  other  city  in  the  world,  Hfe 
would  be  just  as  costly  and  impossible  as  in 
London. 

Well  might  Denton  cry  aloud:  "If  only  we 
had  lived  in  those  days,  dearest!  If  only  we 
had  lived  in  the  past For  to  their  eyes  even 
nineteenth-century  Whitechapel  was  seen 
through  a  mist  of  romance. 

"Is  there  nothing?"  cried  Elizabeth,  sud- 
denly weeping.  "Must  we  really  wait  for  those 
three  long  years  ?  Fancy  three  years — six-and- 
thirty  months!''  The  human  capacity  for 
patience  had  not  grown  with  the  ages. 

Then  suddenly  Denton  was  moved  to  speak 
of  something  that  had  already  flickered  across 
his  mind.  He  had  hit  upon  it  at  last.  It  seemed 
to  him  so  wild  a  suggestion  that  he  made  it  only 
half  seriously.  But  to  put  a  thing  into  words 
has  ever  a  way  of  making  it  seem  more  real  and 
possible  than  it  seemed  before.  And  so  it  was 
with  him. 

"Suppose,"  he  said,  "we  went  into  the  coun- 
try?'' 

She  looked  at  him  to  see  if  he  was  serious  in 
proposing  such  an  adventure. 
"The  country?" 

"Yes — ^^beyond  there.   Beyond  the  hills." 


2o8  Time  and  Space 


''How  could  we  live?''  she  said.  ''Where 
could  we  live?'' 

''It  is  not  impossible,"  he  said.  "People  used 
to  live  in  the  country." 

"But  then  there  were  houses." 

"There  are  the  ruins  of  villages  and  towns 
now.  On  the  clay  lands  they  are  gone,  of 
course.  But  they  are  still  left  on  the  grazing 
land,  because  it  does  not  pay  the  Food  Com- 
pany to  remove  them.  I  know  that — for  cer- 
tain. Besides,  one  sees  them  from  the  flying 
machines,  you  know.  Well,  we  might  shelter 
in  some  one  of  these,  and  repair  it  with  our 
hands.  Do  you  know,  the  thing  is  not  so  wild 
as  it  seems.  Some  of  the  men  who  go  out  every 
day  to  look  after  the  crops  and  herds  might  be 
paid  to  bring  us  food.    .  . 

She  stood  in  front  of  him.  "How  strange  it 
would  be  if  one  really  could.    .  ." 

"Why  not?" 

"But  no  one  dares." 

"That  is  no  reason." 

"It  would  be — oh!  it  would  be  so  romantic 
and  strange.   If  only  it  were  possible." 
"Why  not  possible?" 

"There  are  so  many  things.   Think  of  all  the 
things  we  have,  things  that  we  should  miss." 
"Should  we  miss  them?    After  all,  the  life 


4 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  209 

we  lead  is  very  unreal — very  artificial."  He 
began  to  expand  his  idea,  and  as  he  warmed  to 
his  exposition  the  fantastic  quality  of  his  first 
proposal  faded  away. 

She  thought.  ''But  I  have  heard  of  prowlers 
— escaped  criminals." 

He  nodded.  He  hesitated  over  his  answer 
because  he  thought  it  sounded  boyish.  He 
blushed.  ''I  could  get  some  one  I  know  to 
make  me  a  sword." 

She  looked  at  him  with  enthusiasm  growing 
in  her  eyes.  She  had  heard  of  swords,  had  seen 
one  in  a  museum ;  she  thought  of  those  ancient 
days  when  men  wore  them  as  a  common  thing. 
His  suggestion  seemed  an  impossible  dream  to 
her,  and  perhaps  for  that  reason  she  was  eager 
for  more  detail.  And  inventing  for  the  most 
part  as  he  went  along,  he  told  her,  how  they 
might  live  in  the  country  as  the  old-world  peo- 
ple had  done.  With  every  detail  her  interest 
grew,  for  she  was  one  of  those  girls  for  whom 
romance  and  adventure  have  a  fascination. 

His  suggestion  seemed,  I  say,  an  impossible 
dream  to  her  on  that  day,  but  the  next  day  they 
talked  about  it  again,  and  it  was  strangely  less 
impossible. 

"At  first  we  should  take  food,"  said  Denton. 

"We  could  carry  food  for  ten  or  twelve  days.'* 

o 


2IO 


Time  and  Space 


It  was  an  age  of  compact  artificial  nourishment, 
and  such  a  provision  had  none  of  the  unwieldy 
suggestion  it  would  have  had  in  the  nineteenth 
century. 

''But — until  our  house/'  she'  asked — ''until 
it  was  ready,  where  should  we  sleep 
"It  is  summer." 

"But.    .    .    .    What  do  you  mean?" 

"There  was  a  time  when  there  were  no 
houses  in  the  world ;  when  all  mankind  slept  al- 
ways in  the  open  air." 

"But  for  us!  The  emptiness!  No  walls — 
no  ceiling!" 

"Dear,"  he  said,  "in  London  you  have  many 
beautiful  ceilings.  Artists  paint  them  and  stud 
them  with  lights.  But  I  have  seen  a  ceiling 
more  beautiful  than  any  in  London.    .    .  ." 

"But  where?" 

"It  is  the  ceiling  under  which  we  two  would 
be  alone.    .  ." 

"You  mean.    .    .    .  ?" 

"Dear,"  he  said,  "it  is  something  the  world 
has  forgotten.  It  is  Heaven  and  all  the  host  of 
stars." 

Each  time  they  talked  the  thing  seemed  more 
possible  and  more  desirable  to  them.  In  a  week 
or  so  it  was  quite  possible.  Another  week,  and 
it  was  the  inevitable  thing  they  had  to  do.  A 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  211 

great  enthusiasm  for  the  country  seized  hold  of 
them  and  possessed  them.  The  sordid  tumult 
of  the  town,  they  said,  overwhelmed  them. 
They  marvelled  that  this  simple  way  out  of 
their  troubles  had  never  come  upon  them  be- 
fore. 

One  morning  near  Midsummer-day,  there 
was  a  new  minor  official  upon  the  flying  stage, 
and  Denton's  place  was  to  know  him  no  more. 

Our  two  young  people  had  secretly  married, 
and  were  going  forth  manfully  out  of  the  city 
in  which  they  and  their  ancestors  before  them 
had  lived  all  their  days.  She  wore  a  new  dress 
of  white  cut  in  an  old-fashioned  pattern,  and 
he  had  a  bundle  of  provisions  strapped  athwart 
his  back,  and  in  his  hand  he  carried — rather 
shame-facedly  it  is  true,  and  under  his  purple 
cloak — an  implement  of  archaic  form,  a  cross- 
hilted  thing  of  tempered  steel. 

Imagine  that  going  forth !  In  their  days  the 
sprawling  suburbs  of  Victorian  times  with  their 
vile  roads,  petty  houses,  foolish  little  gardens 
of  shrub  and  geranium,  and  all  their  futile,  pre- 
tentious privacies,  had  disappeared :  the  tower- 
ing buildings  of  the  new  age,  the  mechanical 
ways,  the  electric  and  water  mains,  all  came  to 
an  end  together,  like  a  wall,  like  a  cliff,  near 
four  hundred  feet  in  height,  abrupt  and  sheer. 


212 


Time  and  Space 


All  about  the  city  spread  the  carrot,  swede,  and 
turnip  fields  of  the  Food  Company,  vegetables 
that  were  the  basis  of  a  thousand  varied  foods, 
and  weeds  and  hedgerow  tangles  had  been  ut- 
terly extirpated.  The  incessant  expense  of 
weeding  that  went  on  year  after  year  in  the 
petty,  wasteful  and  barbaric  farming  of  the 
ancient  days,  the  Food  Company  had  econo- 
mised for  ever  more  by  a  campaign  of  extermi- 
nation^ Here  and  there,  however,  neat  rows  of 
bramble  standards  and  apple  trees  with  white- 
washed stems,  intersected  the  fields,  and  at 
places  groups  of  gigantic  teazles  reared  their 
favoured  spikes.  Here  and  there  huge  agri- 
cultural machines  hunched  under  waterproof 
covers.  The  mingled  waters  of  the  Wey  and 
Mole  and  Wandle  ran  in  rectangular  channels ; 
and  wherever  a  gentle  elevation  of  the  ground 
permitted  a  fountain  of  deodorised  sewage  dis- 
tributed its  benefits  athwart  the  land  and  made 
a  rainbow  of  the  sunlight. 

By  a  great  archway  in  that  enormous  city 
wall  emerged  the  Eadhamite  road  to  Ports- 
mouth, swarming  in  the  morning  sunshine  with 
an  enormous  traffic  bearing  the  blue-clad  serv- 
ants of  the  Food  Company  to  their  toil.  A 
rushing  traffic,  beside  which  they  seemed  two 
scarce-moving  dots.    Along  the  outer  tracks 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  213 

hummed  and  rattled  the  tardy  Httle  old-fash- 
ioned motors  of  such  as  had  duties  within 
twenty  miles  or  so  of  the  city;  the  inner  ways 
were  filled  with  vaster  mechanisms — swift 
monocycles  bearing  a  score  of  men,  lank  multi- 
cycles, quadricycles  sagging  with  heavy  loads, 
empty  gigantic  produce  carts  that  would  come 
back  again  filled  before  the  sun  was  setting,  all 
with  throbbing  engines  and  noiseless  wheels 
and  a  perpetual  wild  melody  of  horns  and 
gongs. 

Along  the  very  verge  of  the  outermost  way 
our  young  people  went  in  silence,  newly  wed 
and  oddly  shy  of  one  another's  company.  Many 
were  the  things  shouted  to  them  as  they 
tramped  along,  for  in  2100  a  foot-passenger  on 
an  English  road  was  almost  as  strange  a  sight 
as  a  motor  car  would  have  been  in  1800.  But 
they  went  on  with  steadfast  eyes  into  the  coun- 
try, paying  no  heed  to  such  cries. 

Before  them  in  the  south  rose  the  Downs, 
blue  at  first,  and  as  they  came  nearer  changing 
to  green,  surmounted  by  the  row  of  gigantic 
wind-wheels  that  supplemented  the  wind- 
wheels  upon  the  roof-spaces  of  the  city,  and 
broken  and  restless  with  the  long  morning 
shadows  of  those  whirling  vanes.  By  midday 
they  had  come  so  near  that  they  could  see  here 


214  Time  and  Space 


and  there  little  patches  of  pallid  dots — the  sheep 
the  Meat  Department  of  the  Food  Company 
owned.  In  another  hour  they  had  passed  the 
clay  and  the  root  crops  and  the  single  fence  that 
hedged  them  in,  and  the  prohibition  against 
trespass  no  longer  held:  the  levelled  roadway 
plunged  into  a  cutting  with  all  its  traffic,  and 
they  could  leave  it  and  walk  over  the  greens- 
ward and  up  the  open  hillside. 

Never  had  these  children  of  the  latter  days 
been  togethet*  in  such  a  lonely  place. 

They  were  both  very  hungry  and  footsore — 
for  walking  was  a  rare  exercise — and  presently 
they  sat  down  on  the  weedless,  close-cropped 
grass,  and  looked  back  for  the  first  time  at  the 
city  from  which  they  had  come,  shining  wide 
and  splendid  in  the  blue  haze  of  the  valley  of 
the  Thames.  Elizabeth  was  a  little  afraid  of 
the  unenclosed  sheep  away  up  the  slope — she 
had  never  been  near  big  unrestrained  animals 
before — but  Denton  reassured  her.  And  over- 
head a  white-winged  bird  circled  in  the  blue. 

They  talked  but  little  until  they  had  eaten, 
and  then  their  tongues  were  loosened.  He 
spoke  of  the  happiness  that  was  now  certainly 
theirs,  of  the  folly  of  not  breaking  sooner  out 
of  that  magnificent  prison  of  latter-day  life,  of 
the  old  romantic  days  that  had  passed  from  the 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  215 

world  for  ever.  And  then  he  became  boastful. 
He  took  up  the  sword  that  lay  on  the  ground 
beside  him,  and  she  took  it  from  his  hand  and 
ran  a  tremulous  finger  along  the  blade. 

''And  you  could,"  she  said,  "you — could 
raise  this  and  strike  a  man?" 

"Why  not?   If  there  were  need." 

''But,"  she  said,  ''it  seems  so  horrible.  It 
would  slash.  .  .  There  would  be" — her 
voice  sank, — ''blood/' 

"In  the  old  romances  you  have  read  often 
enough.    .  ." 

"Oh,  I  know:  in  those — yes.  But  that  is 
different.  One  knows  it  is  not  blood,  but  just 
a  sort  of  red  ink.    .    .    And  you — killing !" 

She  looked  at  him  doubtfully,  and  then 
handed  him  back  the  sword. 

After  they  had  rested  and  eaten,  they  rose  up 
and  went  on  their  way  towards  the  hills.  They 
passed  quite  close  to  a  huge  flock  of  sheep,  who 
stared  and  bleated  at  their  unaccustomed 
figures.  She  had  never  seen  sheep  before,  and 
she  shivered  to  think  such  gentle  things  must 
needs  be  slain  for  food.  A  sheep-dog  barked 
from  a  distance,  and  then  a  shepherd  appeared 
amidst  the  supports  of  the  wind-wheels,  and 
came  down  towards  them. 


J 


2l6 


Time  and  Space 


When  he  drew  near  he  called  out  asking 
whither  they  were  going. 

Denton  hesitated,  and  told  him  briefly  that 
they  sought  some  ruined  house  among  the 
Downs,  in  which  they  might  live  together.  He 
tried  to  speak  in  an  off-hand  manner,  as  though 
it  was  a  usual  thing  to  do.  The  man  stared  in- 
credulously. 

^'Have  you  done  anything?"  he  asked. 

''Nothing,''  said  Denton.  ''Only  we  don't 
want  to  live  in  a  city  any  longer.  Why  should 
we  live  in  cities?" 

The  shepherd  stared  more  incredulously  than 
ever.  "You  can't  live  here,"  he  said. 

"We  mean  to  try." 

The  shepherd  stared  from  one  to  the  other. 
"You'll  go  back  to-morrow,"  he  said.  "It  looks 
pleasant  enough  in  the  sunlight.  .  .  Are 
you  sure  you've  done  nothing  ?  We  shepherds 
are  not  such  great  friends  of  the  police." 

Denton  looked  at  him  steadfastly.  "No,"  he 
said.  "But  we  are  too  poor  to  live  in  the  city, 
and  we  can't  bear  the  thought  of  wearing 
clothes  of  blue  canvas  and  doing  drudgery. 
We  are  going  to  live  a  simple  life  here,  like  the 
people  of  old." 

The  shepherd  was  a  bearded  man  with  a 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  217 

thoughtful  face.  He  glanced  at  Elizabeth's 
fragile  beauty. 

^'They  had  simple  minds/'  he  said. 

"So  have  we,"  said  Denton. 

The  shepherd  smiled. 

''If  you  go  along  here,"  he  said,  ''along  the 
crest  beneath  the  wind-wheels,  you  will  see  a 
heap  of  mounds  and  ruins  on  your  right-hand 
side.  That  was  once  a  town  called  Epsom. 
There  are  no  houses  there,  and  the  bricks  have 
been  used  for  a  sheep  pen.  Go  on,  and  another 
heap  on  the  edge  of  the  root-land  is  Leather- 
head;  and  then  the  hill  turns  away  along  the 
border  of  a  valley,  and  there  are  woods  of 
beech.  Keep  along  the  crest.  You  will  come 
to  quite  wild  places.  In  some  parts,  in  spite  of 
all  the  weeding  that  is  done,  ferns  and  blue- 
bells and  other  such  useless  plants  are  growing 
still.  And  through  it  all  underneath  the  wind- 
wheels  runs  a  straight  lane  paved  with  stones,  a 
roadway  of  the  Romans  two  thousand  years 
old.  Go  to  the  right  of  that,  down  into  the 
valley  and  follow  it  along  by  the  banks  of  the 
river.  You  come  presently  to  a  street  of  houses, 
many  with  the  roofs  still  sound  upon  them. 
There  you  may  find  shelter. 

They  thanked  him. 

"But  it's  a  quiet  place.    There  is  no  light 


21 8  Time  and  Space 


after  dark  there,  and  I  have  heard  tell  of  rob- 
bers. It  is  lonely.  Nothing  happens  there. 
The  phonographs  of  the  story-tellers,  the  kine- 
matograph  entertainments,  the  news  machines 
— none  of  them  are  to  be  found  there.  If  you 
are  hungry  there  is  no  food,  if  you  are  ill  no 
doctor.    .         He  stopped. 

''We  shall  try  it,"  said  Denton,  moving  to  go  • 
on.  Then  a  thought  struck  him,  and  he  made 
an  agreement  with  the  shepherd,  and  learnt 
where  they  might  find  him,  to  buy  and  bring 
them  anything  of  which  they  stood  in  need,  out 
of  the  city. 

And  in  the  evening  they  came  to  the  deserted 
village,  with  its  houses  that  seemed  so  small 
and  odd  to  them :  they  found  it  golden  in  the 
glory  of  the  sunset,  and  desolate  and  still. 
They  went  from  one  deserted  house  to  another, 
marvelling  at  their  quaint  simplicity,  and  de- 
bating which  they  should  choose.  And  at  last, 
in  a  sunlit  corner  of  a  room  that  had  lost  its 
outer  wall,  they  came  upon  a  wild  flower,  a  lit- 
tle flower  of  blue  that  the  weeders  of  the  Food 
Company  had  overlooked. 

That  house  they  decided  upon ;  but  they  did 
not  remain  in  it  long  that  night,  because  they 
were  resolved  to  feast  upon  nature.  And  more- 
over the  houses  became  very  gaunt  and  shadowy 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  219 

after  the  sunlight  had  faded  out  of  the  sky.  So 
after  they  had  rested  a  httle  time  they  went  to 
the  crest  of  the  hill  again  to  see  with  their  own 
eyes  the  silence  of  heaven  set  with  stars,  about 
which  the  old  poets  had  had  so  many  things  to 
tell.  It  was  a  wonderful  sight,  and  Denton 
talked  like  the  stars,  and  when  they  went  down 
the  hill  at  last  the  sky  was  pale  with  dawn. 
They  slept  but  little,  and  in  the  morning  when 
they  woke  a  thrush  was  singing  in  a  tree. 

So  these  young  people  of  the  twenty-second 
century  began  their  exile.  That  morning  they 
were  very  busy  exploring  the  resources  of  this 
new  home  in  which  they  were  going  to  live  the 
simple  life.  They  did  not  explore  very  fast 
or  very  far,  because  they  went  everywhere 
hand-in-hand ;  but  they  found  the  beginnings  of 
some  furniture.  Beyond  the  village  was  a  store 
of  winter  fodder  for  the  sheep  of  the  Food 
Company,  and  Denton  dragged  great  armfuls 
to  the  house  to  make  a  bed;  and  in  several  of 
the  houses  were  old  fungus-eaten  chairs  and 
tables — rough,  barbaric,  clumsy  furniture,  it 
seemed  to  them,  and  made  of  wood.  They  re- 
peated many  of  the  things  they  had  said  on  the 
previous  day,  and  towards  evening  they  found 
another  flower,  a  harebell.  In  the  late  after- 
noon some  Company  shepherds  went  down  the 


220 


Time  and  Space 


river  valley  riding  on  a  big  multicycle ;  but  they 
hid  from  them,  because  their  presence,  Eliza- 
beth said,  seemed  to  spoil  the  romance  of  this 
old-world  place  altogether. 

In  this  fashion  they  lived  a  week.  For  all 
that  week  the  days  were  cloudless,  and  the 
nights  nights  of  starry  glory,  that  were  invaded 
each  a  little  more  by  a  crescent  moon. 

Yet  something  of  the  first  splendour  of  their 
coming  faded — faded  imperceptibly  day  after 
day;  Denton's  eloquence  became  fitful,  and 
lacked  fresh  topics  of  inspiration;  the  fatigue 
of  their  long  march  from  London  told  in  a  cer- 
tain stiffness  of  the  limbs,  and  each  suffered 
from  a  slight  unaccountable  cold.  Moreover, 
Denton  became  aware  of  unoccupied  time.  In 
one  place  among  the  carelessly  heaped  lumber 
of  the  old  times  he  found  a  rust-eaten  spade, 
and  with  this  he  made  a  fitful  attack  on  the 
razed  and  grass-grown  garden — though  he  had 
nothing  to  plant  or  sow.  He  returned  to  Eliza- 
beth with  a  sweat-streaming  face,  after  half  an 
hour  of  such  work. 

'There  were  giants  in  those  days,''  he  said, 
not  understanding  what  wont  and  training  will 
do.  And  their  walk  that  day  led  them  along  the 
hills  until  they  could  see  the  city  shimmering 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  221 

far  away  in  the  valley.  ^'I  wonder  how  things 
are  going  on  there/'  he  said. 

And  then  came  a  change  in  the  weather. 
''Come  out  and  see  the  clouds,"  she  cried ;  and 
behold !  they  were  a  sombre  purple  in  the  north 
and  east,  streaming  up  to  ragged  edges  at  the 
zenith.  And  as  they  went  up  the  hill  these 
hurrying  streamers  blotted  out  the  sunset.  Sud- 
denly the  wind  set  the  beech-trees  swaying  and 
whispering,  and  Elizabeth  shivered.  And  then 
far  away  the  lightning  flashed,  flashed  like  a 
sword  that  is  drawn  suddenly,  and  the  distant 
thunder  marched  about  the  sky,  and  even  as 
they  stood  astonished,  pattering  upon  them 
came  the  first  headlong  raindrops  of  the  storm. 
In  an  instant  the  last  streak  of  sunset  was  hid- 
den by  a  falling  curtain  of  hail,  and  the  light- 
ning flashed  again,  and  the  voice  of  the  thunder 
roared  louder,  and  all  about  them  the  world 
scowled  dark  and  strange. 

Seizing  hands,  these  children  of  the  city  ran 
down  the  hill  to  their  home,  in  infinite  aston- 
ishment. And  ere  they  reached  it,  Elizabeth 
was  weeping  with  dismay,  and  the  darkling 
ground  about  them  was  white  and  brittle  and 
active  with  the  pelting  hail. 

Then  began  a  strange  and  terrible  night  for 
them.   For  the  first  time  in  their  civilised  lives 


222  Time  and  Space 


they  were  in  absolute  darkness ;  they  were  wet 
and  cold  and  shivering,  all  about  them  hissed 
the  hail,  and  through  the  long  neglected  ceilings 
of  the  derelict  home  came  noisy  spouts  of 
water  and  formed  pools  and  rivulets  on  the 
creaking  floors.  As  the  gusts  of  the  storm 
struck  the  worn-out  building,  it  groaned  and 
shuddered,  and  now  a  mass  of  plaster  from  the 
wall  would  slide  and  smash,  and  now  some 
loosened  tile  would  rattle  down  the  roof  and 
crash  into  the  empty  greenhouse  below.  Eliza- 
beth shuddered,  and  was  still ;  Denton  wrapped 
his  ga}^  and  flimsy  city  cloak  about  her,  and  so 
they  crouched  in  the  darkness.  And  ever  the 
thunder  broke  louder  and  nearer,  and  ever  more 
lurid  flashed  the  lightning,  jerking  into  a  mo- 
mentary gaunt  clearness  the  steaming,  dripping 
room  in  which  they  sheltered. 

Never  before  had  they  been  in  the  open  air 
save  when  the  sun  was  shining.  All  their  time 
had  been  spent  in  the  warm  and  airy  ways  and 
halls  and  rooms  of  the  latter-day  city.  It  was 
to  them  that  night  as  if  they  were  in  some  other 
world,  some  disordered  chaos  of  stress  and 
tumult,  and  almost  beyond  hoping  that  they 
should  ever  see  the  city  ways  again. 

The  storm  seemed  to  last  interminably,  until 
at  last  they  dozed  between  the  thunderclaps, 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  223 


and  then  very  swiftly  it  fell  and  ceased.  And 
as  the  last  patter  of  the  rain  died  away  they 
heard  an  unfamiliar  sound. 

'What  is  that?''  cried  Elizabeth. 

It  came  again.  It  was  the  barking  of  dogs. 
It  drove  down  the  desert  lane  and  passed ;  and 
through  the  window,  whitening  the  wall  before 
them  and  throwing  upon  it  the  shadow  of  the 
window-frame  and  of  a  tree  in  black  silhouette, 
shone  the  light  of  the  waxing  moon.    .    .  . 

Just  as  the  pale  dawn  was  drawing  the  things 
about  them  into  sight,  the  fitful  barking  of  dogs 
came  near  again,  and  stopped.  They  listened. 
After  a  pause  they  heard  the  quick  pattering  of 
feet  seeking  round  the  house,  and  short,  half- 
smothered  barks.  Then  again  everything  was 
still. 

''Ssh!"  whispered  Elizabeth,  and  pointed  to 
the  door  of  their  room. 

Denton  went  half-way  towards  the  door,  and 
stood  listening.  He  came  back  with  a  face  of 
affected  unconcern.  'They  must  be  the  sheep- 
dogs of  the  Food  Company,"  he  said.  'They 
will  do  us  no  harm.'' 

He  sat  down  again  beside  her.  "What  a 
night  it  has  been !"  he  said,  to  hide  how  keenly 
he  was  listening. 


224  Time  and  Space 


"I  don't  like  dogs/'  answered  Elizabeth, 
after  a  long  silence. 

''Dogs  never  hurt  any  one/'  said  Denton.  ''In 
the  old  days — in  the  nineteenth  century — 
everybody  had  a  dog/' 

"There  was  a  romance  I  heard  once,  A  dog 
killed  a  man." 

"Not  this  sort  of  dog/'  said  Denton  confi- 
dently. "Some  of  those  romances- — are  exag- 
gerated." 

Suddenly  a  half  bark  and  a  pattering  up  the 
staircase ;  the  sound  of  panting.  Denton  sprang 
to  his  feet  and  drew  the  sword  out  of  the  damp 
straw  upon  which  they  had  been  lying^Then  in 
the  doorway  appeared  a  gaunt  sheep-dog,  and 
halted  there.  Behind  it  stared  another.  For  an 
instant  man  and  brute  faced  each  other,  hesi- 
tating. 

Then  Denton,  being  ignorant  of  dogs,  made 
a  sharp  step  forward.  "Go  away,"  he  said, 
with  a  clumsy  motion  of  his  sword. 

The  dog  started  and  growled.  Denton 
stopped  sharply.  "Good  dog !"  he  said. 

The  growling  jerked  into  a  bark. 

"Good  dog!"  said  Denton.  The  second  dog 
growled  and  barked.  A  third  out  of  sight  down 
the  staircase  took  up  the  barking  also.  Outside 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  225 

others  gave  tongue — a  large  number  it  seemed 
to  Denton. 

*This  is  annoying,"  said  Denton,  without 
taking  his  eye  off  the  brutes  before  him.  ''Of 
course  the  shepherds  won't  come  out  of  the  city 
for  hours  yet.  Naturally  these  dogs  don't  quite 
make  us  out." 

can't  hear,"  shouted  Elizabeth.  She  stood 
up  and  came  to  him. 

Denton  tried  again,  but  the  barking  still 
drowned  his  voice.  The  sound  had  a  curious 
effect  upon  his  blood.  Odd  disused  emotions 
began  to  stir;  his  face  changed  as  he  shouted. 
He  tried  again;  the  barking  seemed  to  mock 
him,  and  one  dog  danced  a  pace  forward,  brist- 
ling. Suddenly  he  turned,  and  uttering  certain 
words  in  the  dialect  of  the  underways,  words 
incomprehensible  to  Elizabeth,  he  made  for  the 
dogs.  There  was  a  sudden  cessation  of  the 
barking,  a  growl  and  a  snapping.  Elizabeth 
saw  the  snarling  head  of  the  foremost  dog,  its 
white  teeth  and  retracted  ears,  and  the  flash  of 
the  thrust  blade.  The  brute  leapt  into  the  air 
and  was  flung  back. 

Then  Denton,  with  a  shout,  was  driving  the 
dogs  before  him.  The  sword  flashed  above  his 
head  with  a  sudden  new  freedom  of  gesture, 
and  then  he  vanished  down  the  staircase.  She 


226  Time  and  Space 


made  six  steps  to  follow  him,  and  on  the  land- 
ing there  was  blood.  She  stopped,  and  hearing 
the  tumult  of  dogs  and  Denton's  shouts  pass 
out  of  the  house,  ran  to  the  window. 

Nine  wolfish  sheep-dogs  were  scattering,  one 
writhed  before  the  porch ;  and  Denton,  tasting 
that  strange  delight  of  combat  that  slumbers 
still  in  the  blood  of  even  the  most  civilised  man, 
was  shouting  and  running  across  the  garden 
space.  And  then  she  saw  something  that  for  a 
moment  he  did  not  see.  The  dogs  circled  round 
this  way  and  that,  and  came  again.  They  had 
him  in  the  open. 

In  an  instant  she  divined  the  situation.  She 
would  have  called  to  him.  For  a  moment  she 
felt  sick  and  helpless,  and  then,  obeying  a 
strange  impulse,  she  gathered  up  her  white  skirt 
and  ran  downstairs.  In  the  hall  was  the  rusting 
spade.  That  was  it!  She  seized  it  and  ran  out. 

She  came  none  too  soon.  One  dog  rolled  be- 
fore him,  well-nigh  slashed  in  half ;  but  a  second 
had  him  by  the  thigh,  a  third  gripped  his  collar 
behind,  and  a  fourth  had  the  blade  of  the  sword 
between  its  teeth,  tasting  its  own  blood.  He 
parried  the  leap  of  a  fifth  with  his  left  arm. 

It  might  have  been  the  first  century  instead 
of  the  twenty-second,  so  far  as  she  was  con- 
cerned. All  the  gentleness  of  her  eighteen  years 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  227 

of  city  life  vanished  before  this  primordial 
need.  The  spade  smote  hard  and  sure,  and  cleft 
a  dog's  skull.  Another,  crouching  for  a  spring, 
yelped  with  dismay  at  this  unexpected  antago- 
nist, and  rushed  aside.  Two  wasted  precious 
moments  on  the  binding  of  a  feminine  skirt. 

The  collar  of  Denton's  cloak  tore  and  parted 
as  he  staggered  back ;  and  that  dog  too  felt  the 
spade,  and  ceased  to  trouble  him.  He  sheathed 
his  sword  in  the  brute  at  his  thigh. 

"To  the  wall !"  cried  Elizabeth ;  and  in  three 
seconds  the  fight  was  at  an  end,  and  our  young 
people  stood  side  by  side,  while  a  remnant  of 
five  dogs,  with  ears  and  tails  of  disaster,  fled 
shamefully  from  the  stricken  field. 

For  a  moment  they  stood  panting  and  victo- 
rious, and  then  Elizabeth,  dropping  her  spade, 
covered  her  face,  and  sank  to  the  ground  in  a 
paroxysm  of  weeping.  Denton  looked  about 
him,  thrust  the  point  of  his  sword  into  the 
ground  so  that  it  was  at  hand,  and  stooped  to 
comfort  her. 

At  last  their  more  tumultuous  emotions  sub- 
sided, and' they  could  talk  again.  She  leant 
upon  the  wall,  and  he  sat  upon  it  so  that  he 
could  keep  an  eye  open  for  any  returning  dogs. 
Two,  at  any  rate,  were  up  on  the  hillside  and 
keeping  up  a  vexatious  barking,  r 


228  Time  and  Space 


She  was  tear-stained,  but  not  very  wretched 
now,  because  for  half  an  hour  he  had  been  re- 
peating that  she  was  brave  and  had  saved  his 
Hfe.   But  a  new  fear  was  growing  in  her  mind. 

"They  are  the  dogs  of  the  Food  Company," 
she  said.   ''There  will  be  trouble." 

'T  am  afraid  so.  Very  likely  they  will  prose- 
cute us  for  trespass." 

A  pause. 

'Tn  the  old  times,"  he  said,  ''this  sort  of  thing 
happened  day  after  day." 

"Last  night!"  she  said.  "I  could  not  live 
through  another  such  night." 

He  looked  at  her.  Her  face  was  pale  for  want 
of  sleep,  and  drawn  and  haggard.  He  came  to  a 
sudden  resolution.  "We  must  go  back,"  he  said. 

She  looked  at  the  dead  dogs,  and  shivered. 
"We  cannot  stay  here,"  she  said. 

"We  must  go  back,"  he  repeated,  glancing 
over  his  shoulder  to  see  if  the  enemy  kept  their 
distance.  "We  have  been  happy  for  a  time. 
.  .  .  But  the  world  is  too  civilised.  Ours  is 
the  age  of  cities.  More  of  this  will  kill  us." 

"But  what  are  we  to  do  ?  How  can  we  live 
there?" 

Denton  hesitated.  His  heel  kicked  against 
the  wall  on  which  he  sat.  "It's  a  thing  I  haven't 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  229 


mentioned  before,"  he  said,  and  coughed ;  ''but. 

•  a  • 

"Yes?" 

"You  could  raise  money  on  your  expecta- 
tions," he  said. 

"Could  I  ?"  she  said  eagerly. 

"Of  course  you  could.  What  a  child  you 
are !" 

She  stood  up,  and  her  face  was  bright.  "Why 
did  you  not  tell  me  before?"  she  asked.  "And 
all  this  time  we  have  been  here !" 

He  looked  at  her  for  a  moment,  and  smiled. 
Then  the  smile  vanished.  "I  thought  it  ought 
to  come  from  you,"  he  said.  "I  didn't  like  to 
ask  for  your  money.  And  besides — at  first  I 
thought  this  would  be  rather  fine." 

There  was  a  pause. 

"It  has  been  fine,"  he  said;  and  glanced  once 
more  over  his  shoulder.  "Until  all  this  began." 

"Yes,"  she  said,"  "those  first  days.  The  first 
three  days." 

They  looked  for  a  space  into  one  another's 
faces,  and  then  Denton  slid  down  from  the  wall 
and  took  her  hand. 

"To  each  generation,"  he  said,  "the  life  of  its 
time.  I  see  it  all  plainly  now.  In  the  city — that 
is  the  life  to  which  we  were  born.  To  live  in  any 


230  Time  and  Space 


other  fashion.  .  .  Coming  here  was  a 
dream,  and  this — is  the  awakening." 

''It  was  a  pleasant  dream,''  she  said, — *'in  the 
beginning." 

For  a  long  space  neither  spoke. 

''If  we  would  reach  the  city  before  the  shep- 
herds come  here,  we  must  start,"  said  Denton. 
"We  must  get  our  food  out  of  the  house  and  eat 
as  we  go." 

Denton  glanced  about  him  again,  and,  giving 
the  dead  dogs  a  wide  berth,  they  walked  across 
the  garden  space  and  into  the  house  together. 
They  found  the  wallet  with  their  food,  and  de- 
scended the  blood-stained  stairs  again.  In  the 
hall  Elizabeth  stopped.  "One  minute,"  she  said. 
"There  is  something  here." 

She  led  the  way  into  the  room  in  which  that 
one  little  blue  flower  was  blooming.  She 
stooped  to  it,  she  touched  it  with  her  hand. 

"I  want  it,"  she  said;  and  then,  "I  cannot 
take  it.    .    .  ." 
^  Impulsively  she  stooped  and  kissed  its  petals. 

Then  silently,  side  by  side,  they  went  across 
the  empty  garden-space  into  the  old  high  road, 
and  set  their  faces  resolutely  towards  the  dis- 
tant city — towards  the  complex  mechanical  city 
of  those  latter  days,  the  city  that  had  swallowed 
up  mankind. 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  231 

III  THE  WAYS  OF  THE  CITY 

Prominent  if  not  paramount  among  world- 
changing  inventions  in  the  history  of  man  is 
that  series  of  contrivances  in  locomotion  that 
began  with  the  railway  and  ended  for  a  century 
or  more  with  the  motor  and  the  patent  road. 
That  these  contrivances,  together  with  the  de- 
vice of  limited  liability  joint  stock  companies 
and  the  supersession  of  agricultural  labourers 
by  skilled  men  with  ingenious  machinery, 
would  necessarily  concentrate  mankind  in  cities 
of  unparalleled  magnitude  and  work  an  entire 
revolution  in  human  life,  became,  after  the 
event,  a  thing  so  obvious  that  it  is  a  matter  of 
astonishment  it  was  not  more  clearly  antici- 
pated. Yet  that  any  steps  should  be  taken  to 
anticipate  the  miseries  such  a  revolution  might 
entail  does  not  appear  even  to  have  been  sug- 
gested ;  and  the  idea  that  the  moral  prohibitions 
and  sa,nctions,  the  privileges  and  concessions, 
the  conception  of  property  and  responsibility,  of 
comfort  and  beauty,  that  had  rendered  the 
mainly  agricultural  states  of  the  past  prosper- 
ous and  happy,  would  fail  in  the  rising  torrent 
of  novel  opportunities  and  novel  stimulations, 
never  seems  to  have  entered  the  nineteenth-cen- 
tury mind.    That  a  citizen,  kindly  and  fair  in 


232  Time  and  Space 

his  ordinary  life,  could  as  a  shareholder  become 
almost  murderously  greedy;  that  commercial 
methods  that  were  reasonable  and  honourable 
on  the  old-fashioned  countryside,  should  on  an 
enlarged  scale  be  deadly  and  overwhelming; 
that  ancient  charity  was  modern  pauperisation, 
and  ancient  employment  modern  sweating; 
that,  in  fact,  a  revision  and  enlargement  of  the 
duties  and  rights  of  man  had  become  urgently 
necessary,  were  things  it  could  not  entertain, 
nourished  as  it  was  on  an  archaic  system  of 
education  and  profoundly  retrospective  and  le- 
gal in  all  its  habits  of  thought.  It  was  known 
that  the  accumulation  of  men  in  cities  involved 
unprecedented  dangers  of  pestilence ;  there  was 
an  energetic  development  of  sanitation;  but 
that  the  diseases  of  gambling  and  usury,  of 
luxury  and  tyranny  should  become  endemic, 
and  produce  horrible  consequences  was  beyond 
the  scope  of  nineteenth-century  thought.  And 
so,  as  if  it  were  some  inorganic  process,  practi- 
cally unhindered  by  the  creative  will  of  man, 
the  growth  of  the  swarming  unhappy  cities  that 
mark  the  twenty-first  century  accomplished 
itself. 

The  new  society  was  divided  into  three  main 
classes.  At  the  summit  slumbered  the  property 
owner,  enormously  rich  by  accident  rather  thaa 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  233 

design,  potent  save  for  the  will  and  aim,  the  last 
avatar  of  Hamlet  in  the  world.  Below  was  the 
enormous  multitude  of  workers  employed  by 
the  gigantic  companies  that  monopolised  con- 
trol ;  and  between  these  two  the  dwindling  mid- 
dle class,  officials  of  innumerable  sorts,  fore- 
men, managers,  the  medical,  legal,  artistic,  and 
scholastic  classes,  and  the  minor  rich,  a  middle 
class  whose  members  led  a  life  of  insecure  lux- 
ury and  precarious  speculation  amidst  the 
movements  of  the  great  managers. 

Already  the  love  story  and  the  marrying  of 
two  persons  of  this  middle  class  have  been  told : 
how  they  overcame  the  obstacles  between  them, 
and  how  they  tried  the  simple  old-fashioned 
way  of  living  on  the  countryside  and  came  back 
speedily  enough  into  the  city  of  London.  Den- 
ton had  no  means,  so  Elizabeth  borrowed 
money  on  the  securities  that  her  father  Mwres 
held  in  trust  for  her  until  she  was  one-and- 
twenty. 

The  rate  of  interest  she  paid  was  of  course 
high,  because  of  the  uncertainty  of  her  security, 
and  the  arithmetic  of  lovers  is  often  sketchy  and 
optimistic.  Yet  they  had  very  glorious  times 
after  that  return.  They  determined  they  would 
not  go  to  a  Pleasure  city  nor  waste  their  days 
rushing  through  the  air  from  one  part  of  the 


234  Time  and  Space 


world  to  the  other,  for  in  spite  of  one  disillu- 
sionment, their  tastes  were  still  old-fashioned. 
They  furnished  their  little  room  with  quaint  old 
Victorian  furniture,  and  found  a  shop  on  the 
forty-second  floor  in  Seventh  Way  where 
printed  books  of  the  old  sort  were  still  to  be 
bought.  It  was  their  pet  affectation  to  read 
print  instead  of  hearing  phonographs.  And 
when  presently  there  came  a  sweet  little  girl,  to 
unite  them  further  if  it  were  possible,  Elizabeth 
would  not  send  it  to  a  Creche,  as  the  custom 
was,  but  insisted  on  nursing  it  at  home.  The 
rent  of  their  apartments  was  raised  on  account 
of  this  singular  proceeding,  but  that  they  did 
not  mind.  It  only  meant  borrowing  a  little 
more. 

Presently  Elizabeth  was  of  age,  and  Denton 
had  a  business  interview  with  her  father  that 
was  not  agreeable.  An  exceedingly  disagreea- 
ble interview  with  their  money-lender  followed, 
from  which  he  brought  home  a  white  face.  On 
his  return  Elizabeth  had  to  tell  him  of  a  new 
and  marvellous  intonation  of  ''Goo"  that  "their 
daughter  had  devised,  but  Denton  was  inat- 
tentive. In  the  midst,  just  as  she  was  at  the 
cream  of  her  description,  he  interrupted.  ''How 
much  money  do  you  think  we  have  left,  now 
that  everything  is  settled?" 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  235 

She  stared  and  stopped  her  appreciative 
swaying  of  the  Goo  genius  that  had  accompa- 
nied her  description. 

*'You  don't  mean    .    .    .  ?" 

"Yes/'  he  answered.  ''Ever  so  much.  We 
have  been  wild.  It's  the  interest.  Or  something. 
And  the  shares  you  had,  slumped.  Your  father 
did  not  mind.  Said  it  was  not  his  business, 
after  what  had  happened.  He's  going  to  marry 
again.  .  .  .  Well — we  have  scarcely  a 
thousand  left!" 

"Only  a  thousand?" 

"Only  a  thousand." 

And  Elizabeth  sat  down.  For  a  moment  she 
regarded  him  with  a  white  face,  then  her  eyes 
went  about  the  quaint,  old-fashioned  room, 
with  its  middle  Victorian  furniture  and  genuine 
oleographs,  and  rested  at  last  on  the  little  lump 
of  humanity  within  her  arms. 

Denton  glanced  at  her  and  stood  downcast. 
Then  he  swung  round  on  his  heel  and  walked 
up  and  down  very  rapidly. 

"I  must  get  something  to  do,"  he  broke  out 
presently.  "I  am  an  idle  scoundrel.  I  ought  to 
have  thought  of  this  before.  I  have  been  a 
selfish  fool.  I  wanted  to  be  with  you  all 
day    .    .  ." 

He  stopped,  looking  at  her  white  face.  Sud- 


236  Time  and  Space 


denly  he  came  and  kissed  her  and  the  little  face 
that  nestled  against  her  breast. 

''It's  all  right,  dear,"  he  said,  standing  over 
her;  ''you  won't  be  lonely  now — now  Dings  is 
beginning  to  talk  to  you.  And  I  can  soon  get 
something  to  do,  you  know.  Soon  .  .  . 
Easily  .  .  .  It's  only  a  shock  at  first.  But 
it  will  come  all  right.  It's  sure  to  come  right. 
I  will  go  out  again  as  soon  as  I  have  rested,  and 
find  what  can  be  done.  For  the  present  it's  hard 
to  think  of  anything    .  . 

"It  would  be  hard  to  leave  these  rooms,"  said 
Elizabeth;  "but  " 

"There  won't  be  any  need  of  that — trust 
me." 

"They  are  expensive." 

Denton  waved  that  aside.  He  began  talking 
of  the  work  he  could  do.  He  was  not  very  ex- 
plicit what  it  would  be;  but  he  was  quite  sure 
that  there  was  something  to  keep  them  com- 
fortably in  the  happy  middle  class,  whose  way 
of  life  was  the  only  one  they  knew. 

"There  are  three-and-thirty  million  people  in 
London,"  he  said :  "some  of  them  must  have 
need  of  me." 

"Some  must." 

"The  trouble  is.  .  .  .  Well— Bindon, 
that  brown  little  old  man  your  father  wanted 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  237 


you  to  marry.  He's  an  important  person.  .  .  . 
I  can't  go  back  to  my  flying-stage  work,  be- 
cause he  is  now  a  Commissioner  of  the  Flying 
Stage  Clerks." 

''I  didn't  know  that/'  said  Elizabeth. 

*'He  was  made  that  in  the  last  few  weeks 
.  .  .  or  things  would  be  easy  enough,  for 
they  liked  me  on  the  flying  stage.  But  there's 
dozens  of  other  things  to  be  done — dozens. 
Don't  you  worry,  dear.  I'll  rest  a  little  while, 
and  then  we'll  dine,  and  then  I'll  start  on  my 
rounds.   I  know  lots  of  people — lots." 

So  they  rested,  and  then  they  went  to  the 
public  dining-room  and  dined,  and  then  he 
started  on  his  search  for  employment.  But  they 
soon  realised  that  in  the  matter  of  one  conven- 
ience the  world  was  just  as  badly  off  as  it  had 
ever  been,  and  that  was  a  nice,  secure,  honoura- 
ble, remunerative  employment,  leaving  ample 
leisure  for  the  private  life,  and  demanding  no 
special  ability,  no  violent  exertion  nor  risk,  and 
no  sacrifice  of  any  sort  for  its  attainment.  He 
evolved  a  number  of  brilliant  projects,  and 
spent  many  days  hurrying  from  one  part  of  the 
enormous  city  to  another  in  search  of  influen- 
tial friends ;  and  all  his  influential  friends  were 
glad  to  see  him,  and  very  sanguine  until  it  came 
to  definite  proposals,  and   then  they  became 


238  Time  and  Space 


guarded  and  vague.  He  would  part  with  them 
coldly,  and  think  over  their  behaviour,  and  get 
irritated  on  his  way  back,  and  stop  at  some  tele- 
phone office  and  spend  money  on  an  animated 
but  unprofitable  quarrel.  And  as  the  days 
passed,  he  got  so  worried  and  irritated  that 
even  to  seem  kind  and  careless  before  Elizabeth 
cost  him  an  effort — as  she,  being  a  loving 
woman,  perceived  very  clearly. 

After  an  extremely  complex  preface  one  day, 
she  helped  him  out  with  a  painful  suggestion. 
He  had  expected  her  to  weep  and  give  way  to 
despair  when  it  came  to  selling  all  their  joyfully 
bought  early  Victorian  treasures,  their  quaint 
objects  of  art,  their  antimacassars,  bead  mats, 
repp  curtains,  veneered  furniture,  gold-framed 
steel  engravings  and  pencil  drawings,  wax 
flowers  under  shades,  stuffed  birds,  and  all  sorts 
of  choice  old  things ;  but  it  was  she  who  made 
the  proposal.  The  sacrifice  seemed  to  fill  her 
with  pleasure,  and  so  did  the  idea  of  shifting  to 
apartments  ten  or  twelve  floors  lower  in  an- 
other hotel.  ^'So  long  as  Dings  is  with  us,  noth- 
ing matters,"  she  said.  "It's  all  experience."  So 
he  kissed  her,  said  she  was  braver  than  when 
she  fought  the  sheep-dogs,  called  her  Boadicea, 
and  abstained  very  carefully  from  reminding 
her  that  they  would  have  to  pay  a  considerably 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  239 

higher  rent  on  account  of  the  Httle  voice  with 
which  Dings  greeted  the  perpetual  uproar  of 
the  city. 

His  idea  had  been  to  get  EHzabeth  out  of  the 
way  when  it  came  to  selling  the  absurd  furni- 
ture about  which  their  affections  were  twined 
and  tangled ;  but  when  it  came  to  the  sale  it  was 
Elizabeth  who  haggled  with  the  dealer  while 
Denton  went  about  the  running  ways  of  the 
city,  white  and  sick  with  sorrow  and  the  fear 
of  what  was  still  to  come.  When  they  moved 
into  their  sparsely  furnished  pink-and-white 
apartments  in  a  cheap  hotel,  there  came  an  out- 
break of  furious  energy  on  his  part,  and  then 
nearly  a  week  of  lethargy  during  which  he 
sulked  at  home.  Through  those  days  Elizabeth 
shone  like  a  star,  and  at  the  end  Denton's 
misery  found  a  vent  in  tears.  And  then  he  went 
out  into  the  city  ways  again,  and — to  his  utter 
amazement — found  some  work  to  do. 

His  standard  of  employment  had  fallen 
steadily  until  at  last  it  had  reached  the  lowest 
level  of  independent  workers.  At  first  he  had  as- 
pired to  some  high  official  position  in  the  great 
Flying  or  Windvane  or  Water  Companies,  or 
to  an  appointment  on  one  of  the  General  Intelli- 
gence Organisations  that  had  replaced  newspa- 
pers, or  to  some  professional  partnership,  but 


240  Time  and  Space 


those  were  the  dreams  of  the  beginning. 
From  that  he  had  passed  to  speculation,  and 
three  hundred  gold  '^lions''  out  of  Elizabeth's 
thousand  had  vanished  one  evening  in  the  share 
market.  Now  he  was  glad  his  good  looks  se- 
cured him  a  trial  in  the  position  of  salesman  to 
the  Suzannah  Hat  Syndicate,  a  Syndicate,  deal- 
ing in  ladies'  caps,  hair  decorations,  and  hats — 
for  though  the  city  was  completely  covered  in, 
ladies  still  wore  extremely  elaborate  and  beauti- 
ful hats  at  the  theatres  and  places  of  public  wor- 
ship. 

It  would  have  been  amusing  if  one  could 
have  confronted  a  Regent  Street  shopkeeper  of 
the  nineteenth  century  with  the  development  of 
his  establishment  in  which  Denton's  duties  lay. 
Nineteenth  Way  was  still  sometimes  called  Re- 
gent Street,  but  it  was  now  a  street  of  moving 
platforms  and  nearly  eight  hundred  feet  wide. 
The  middle  space  was  immovable  and  gave  ac- 
cess by  staircases  descending  into  subterranean 
ways  to  the  houses  on  either  side.  Right  and 
left  were  an  ascending  series  of  continuous 
platforms  each  of  which  travelled  about  five 
miles  an  hour  faster  than  the  one  internal  to  it, 
so  that  one  could  step  from  platform  to  plat- 
form until  one  reached  the  swiftest  outer  way 
and  so  go  about  the  city.  The  establishment  of 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  241 

the  Suzannah  Hat  Syndicate  projected  a  vast 
facade  upon  the  outer  way,  sending  out  over- 
head at  either  end  an  overlapping  series  of  huge 
white  glass  screens,  on  which  gigantic  animated 
pictures  of  the  faces  of  well-known  beautiful 
living  women  wearing  novelties  in  hats  were 
thrown.  A  dense  crowd  was  always  collected  in 
the  stationary  central  way  watching  a  vast 
kinematograph  which  displayed  the  changing 
fashion.  The  whole  front  of  the  building  was 
in  perpetual  chromatic  change,  and  all  down  the 
facade — four  hundred  feet  it  measured — and 
all  across  the  street  of  moving  ways,  laced  and 
winked  and  glittered  in  a  thousand  varieties  of 
colour  and  lettering  the  inscription — 

Suzanna!  ''ets!  Suzanna!  ^ets! 

A  broadside  of  gigantic  phonographs 
drowned  all  conversation  in  the  moving  way 
and  roared  ''hats''  at  the  passer-by,  while  far 
down  the  street  and  up,  other  batteries  coun- 
selled the  public  to  "walk  down  for  Suzannah," 
and  queried,  ''Why  don't  you  buy  the  girl  a 
hat?" 

For  the  benefit  of  those  who  chanced  to  be 
deaf — and  deafness  was  not  uncommon  in  the 
London  of  that  age,  inscriptions  of  all  sizes 

were  thrown  from  the  roof  above  upon  the 

Q 


242  Time  and  Space 

moving  platforms  themselves,  and  on  one's 
hand  or  on  the  bald  head  of  the  man  before  one, 
or  on  a  lady's  shoulders,  or  in  a  sudden  jet  of 
flame  before  one's  feet,  the  moving  finger  wrote 
in  unanticipated  letters  of  fire  '''ets  r  chip  fde," 
or  simply  "'etsf'  And  spite  of  all  these  efforts 
so  high  was  the  pitch  at  which  the  city  lived,  so 
trained  became  one's  eyes  and  ears  to  ignore  all 
sorts  of  advertisement,  that  many  a  citizen  had 
passed  that  place  thousands  of  times  and  was 
still  unaware  of  the  existence  of  the  Suzannah 
Hat  Syndicate. 

To  enter  the  building  one  descended  the 
'  staircase  in  the  middle  way  and  walked  through 
a  public  passage  in  which  pretty  girls  prome- 
naded, girls  who  were  willing  to  wear  a  ticketed 
hat  for  a  small  fee.  The  entrance  chamber  was 
a  large  hall  in  which  wax  heads  fashionably 
adorned  rotated  gracefully  upon  pedestals,  and 
from  this  one  passed  through  a  cash  office  to 
an  interminable  series  of  little  rooms,  each 
room  with  its  salesman,  its  three  or  faur  hats 
and  pins,  its  mirrors,  its  kinematographs,  tele- 
phones and  hat  slides  in  communication  with 
the  central  depot,  its  comfortable  lounge  and 
tempting  refreshments.  A  salesman  in  such  an 
apartment  did  Denton  now  become.  It  was  his 
business  to  attend  to  any  of  the  incessant  stream 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  243 

of  ladies  who  chose  to  stop  with  him,  to  behave 
as  winningly  as  possible,  to  offer  refreshment, 
to  converse  on  any  topic  the  possible  customer 
chose,  and  to  guide  the  conversation  dexter- 
ously but  not  insistently  towards  hats.  He  was 
to  suggest  trying  on  various  types  of  hat  and  to 
show  by  his  manner  and  bearing,  but  without 
any  coarse  flattery,  the  enhanced  impression 
made  by  the  hats  he  wished  to  sell.  He  had  sev- 
eral mirrors,  adapted  by  various  subtleties  of 
curvature  and  tint  to  different  types  of  face  and 
complexion,  and  much  depended  on  the  proper 
use  of  these. 

Denton  flung  himself  at  these  curious  and  not 
very  congenial  duties  with  a  good  will  and  en- 
ergy that  would  have  amazed  him  a  year  be- 
fore ;  but  all  to  no  purpose.  The  Senior  Mana- 
geress, who  had  selected  him  for  appointment 
and  conferred  various  small  marks  of  favour 
upon  him,  suddenly  changed  in  her  manner,  de- 
clared for  no  assignable  cause  that  he  was 
stupid,  and  dismissed  him  at  the  end  of  six 
weeks  of  salesmanship.  So  Denton  had  to  re- 
sume his  ineffectual  search  for  employment. 

This  second  search  did  not  last  very  long. 
Their  money  was  at  the  ebb.  To  eke  it  out  a 
little  longer  they  resolved  to  part  with  their 
darling  Dings,  and  took  that  small  person  to 


244  Time  and  Space 


one  of  the  public  creches  that  abounded  in  the 
city.  That  was  the  common  use  of  the  time. 
The  industrial  emancipation  of  women,  the  cor- 
related disorganisation  of  the  secluded  ''home/' 
had  rendered  creches  a  necessity  for  all  but  very 
rich  and  exceptionally-minded  people.  Therein 
children  encountered  hygienic  and  educational 
advantages  impossible  without  such  organisa- 
tion. Creches  were  of  all  classes  and  types  of 
luxury,  down  to  those  of  the  Labour  Company, 
where  children  were  taken  on  credit,  to  be  re- 
deemed in  labour  as  they  grew  up. 

But  both  Denton  and  Elizabeth  being,  as  I 
have  explained,  strange  old-fashioned  young 
people,  full  of  nineteenth-century  ideas,  hated 
these  convenient  creches  exceedingly  and  at  last 
took  their  little  daughter  to  one  with  extreme 
reluctance.  They  were  received  by  a  motherly 
person  in  a  uniform  who  was  very  brisk  and 
prompt  in  her  manner  until  Elizabeth  wept  at 
the  mention  of  parting  from  her  child.  The 
motherly  person,  after  a  brief  astonishment  at 
this  unusual  emotion,  changed  suddenly  into  a 
creature  of  hope  and  comfort,  and  so  won 
Elizabeth's  gratitude  for  life.  They  were  con- 
ducted into  a  vast  room  presided  over  by  sev- 
eral nurses  and  with  hundreds  of  two-year-old 
girls  grouped  about  the  toy-covered  floor.  This 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  245 

was  the  Two-year-old  Room.  Two  nurses  came 
forward,  and  Elizabeth  watched  their  bearing 
towards  Dings  with  jealous  eyes.  They  were 
kind — it  was  clear  they  felt  kind,  and  yet  .  .  . 

Presently  it  was  time  to  go.  By  that  time 
Dings  was  happily  established  in  a  corner,  sit- 
ting on  the  floor  with  her  arms  filled,  and  her- 
self, indeed,  for  the  most  part  hidden  by  an  un- 
accustomed wealth  of  toys.  She  seemed  care- 
less of  all  human  relationships  as  her  parents 
receded. 

They  were  forbidden  to  upset  her  by  saying 
good-bye. 

At  the  door  Elizabeth  glanced  back  for  the 
last  time,  and  behold !  Dings  had  dropped  her 
new  wealth  and  was  standing  with  a  dubious 
face.  Suddenly  Elizabeth  gasped,  and  the 
motherly  nurse  pushed  her  forward  and  closed 
the  door. 

^'You  can  come  again  soon,  dear,"  she  said, 
with  unexpected  tenderness  in  her  eyes.  For  a 
moment  Elizabeth  stared  at  her  with  a  blank 
face.  *'You  can  come  again  soon,"  repeated  the 
nurse.  Then  with  a  swift  transition  Elizabeth 
was  weeping  in  the  nurse^s  arms.  So  it  was  that 
Denton's  heart  was  won  also. 

And  three  weeks  after  our  young  people  were 
absolutely  penniless,  and  only  one  way  lay  open. 


Time  and  Space 


They  must  go  to  the  Labour  Company.  So  soon 
as  the  rent  was  a  week  overdue  their  few  re- 
maining possessions  were  seized,  and  with  scant 
courtesy  they  were  shown  the  way  out  of  the 
hotel.  EHzabeth  walked  along  the  passage 
towards  the  staircase  that  ascended  to  the  mo- 
tionless middle  way,  too  dulled  by  misery  to 
think.  Denton  stopped  behind  to  finish  a  sting- 
ing and  unsatisfactory  argument  with  the  hotel 
porter,  and  then  came  hurrying  after  her, 
flushed  and  hot.  He  slackened  his  pace  as  he 
overtook  her,  and  together  they  ascended  to 
the  middle  way  in  silence.  There  they  found 
two  seats  vacant  and  sat  down. 

"We  need  not  go  there — yet?'^  said  Eliza- 
beth. 

"No — not  till  we  are  hungry,''  said  Denton. 
They  said  no  more. 

Elizabeth's  eyes  sought  a  resting-place  and 
found  none.  To  the  right  roared  the  eastward 
ways,  to  the  left  the  ways  in  the  opposite  direc- 
tion, swarming  with  people.  Backwards  and 
forwards  along  a  cable  overhead  rushed  a 
string  of  gesticulating  men,  dressed  like  clowns, 
each  marked  on  back  and  chest  with  one  gigan- 
tic letter,  so  that  altogether  they  spelt  out : 


^Turkinje's  Digestive  Pills." 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  247 


An  anaemic  little  woman  in  horrible  coarse  blue 
canvas  pointed  a  little  girl  to  one  of  this  string 
of  hurrying  advertisements. 

''Look!"  said  the  anaemic  woman:  "there's 
yer  father.'' 

"Which?"  said  the  little  girl. 

"'Im  wiv  his  nose  coloured  red,"  said  the 
anaemic  woman. 

The  little  girl  began  to  cry,  and  Elizabeth 
could  have  cried  too. 

"Ain't  'e  kickin'  'is  legs! — justT'  said  the 
anaemic  woman  in  blue,  trying  to  make  things 
bright  again.  "Looky — nowF' 

On.  the  facade  to  the  right  a  huge  intensely 
bright  disc  of  weird  colour  span  incessantly, 
and  letters  of  fire  that  came  and  went  spelt 
out — 

"Does  this  make  you  Giddy  ?" 

Then  a  pause,  followed  by 

"Take  a  Purkinje's  Digestive  Pill." 

A  vast  and  desolating  braying  began.  "If  you 
love  Swagger  Literature,  put  your  telephone  on 
to  Bruggles,  the  Greatest  Author  of  all  Time. 
The  Greatest  Thinker  of  all  Time.  Teaches  you 
Morals  up  to  your  Scalp!  The  very  image  of 
Socrates,  except  the  back  of  his  head,  which  is 


248  Time  and  Spacer 

like  Shakspeare.  He  has  six  toes,  dresses  in 
red,  and  never  cleans  his  teeth.  Hear  Him 

Denton's  voice  became  audible  in  a  gap  in  the 
uproar.  ''I  never  ought  to  have  married  you/' 
he  was  saying.  have  wasted  your  money, 
ruined  you,  brought  you  to  misery.  I  am  a 
scoundrel    .    .    .    Oh,  this  accursed  world 

She  tried  to  speak,  and  for  some  moments 
could  not.  She  grasped  his  hand.  ''No,"  she 
said  at  last. 

A  half-formed  desire  suddenly  became  de- 
termination.  She  stood  up.  "Will  you  come?'' 

He  rose  also.  ''We  need  not  go  there  yet." 

"Not  that.  But  I  want  you  to  come  to  the  fly- 
ing stages — where  we  met.  You  know?  The 
little  seat." 

He  hesitated.  ''Can  you?"  he  said,  doubt- 
fully. 

"Must,"  she  answered. 

He  hesitated  still  for  a  moment,  then  moved 
to  obey  her  will. 

And  so  it  was  they  spent  their  last  half-day 
of  freedom  out  under  the  open  air  in  the  little 
seat  under  the  flying  stages  where  they  had 
been  wont  to  meet  five  short  years  ago.  There 
she  told  him,  what  she  could  not  tell  him  in  the 
tumultuous  public  ways,  that  she  did  not  repent 
even  now  of  their  marriage — that  whatever 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  249 


discomfort  and  misery  life  still  had  for  them^ 
she  was  content  with  the  things  that  had  been. 
The  weather  was  kind  to  them,  the  seat  was 
sunlit  and  warm,  and  overhead  the  shining 
aeroplanes  went  and  came. 

At  last  towards  sunsetting  their  time  was  at 
an  end,  and  they  made  their  vows  to  one  an- 
other ai^d  clasped  hands,  and  then  rose  up  and 
went  back  into  the  ways  of  the  city,  a  shabby- 
looking,  heavy-hearted  pair,  tired  and  hungry. 
Soon  they  came  to  one  of  the  pale  blue  signs 
that  marked  a  Labour  Company  Bureau.  For 
a  space  they  stood  in  the  middle  way  regarding 
this  and  at  last  descended,  and  entered  the  wait- 
ing-room. 

The  Labour  Company  had  originally  been  a 
charitable  organisation;  its  aim  was  to  supply 
food,  shelter,  and  work  to  all  comers.  This  it 
was  bound  to  do  by  the  conditions  of  its  incor- 
poration, and  it  was  also  bound  to  supply  food 
and  shelter  and  medical  attendance  to  all  inca- 
pable of  work  who  chose  to  demand  its  aid.  In 
exchange  these  incapables  paid  labour  notes, 
which  they  had  to  redeem  upon  recovery.  They 
signed  these  labour  notes  with  thumb-marks, 
which  were  photographed  and  indexed  in  such 
a  way  that  this  world-wide  Labour  Company 
could  identify  any  one  of  its  two  or  three  hun- 


250  Time  and  Space 

dred  million  clients  at  the  cost  of  an  hour's  in- 
quiry. The  day's  labour  was  defined  as  two 
spells  in  a  treadmill  used  in  generating  elec- 
trical force,  or  its  equivalent,  and  its  due  per- 
formance could  be  enforced  by  law.  In  practice 
the  Labour  Company  found  it  advisable  to  add 
to  its  statutory  obligations  of  food  and  shelter  a 
few  pence  a  day  as  an  inducement  to  effort ;  and 
its  enterprise  had  not  only  abolished  pauperisa- 
tion altogether,  but  supplied  practically  all  but 
the  very  highest  and  most  responsible  labour 
throughout  the  world.  Nearly  a  third  of  the 
population  of  the  world  were  its  serfs  and  debt- 
ors from  the  cradle  to  the  grave. 

In  this  practical,  unsentimental  way  the  prob- 
lem of  the  unemployed  had  been  most  satisfac- 
torily met  and  overcome.  No  one  starved  in 
the  public  ways,  and  no  rags,  no  costume  less 
sanitary  and  sufficient  than  the  Labour  Com- 
pany's hygienic  but  inelegant  blue  canvas, 
pained  the  eye  throughout  the  whole  world.  It 
was  the  constant  theme  of  the  phonographic 
newspapers  how  much  the  world  had  pro- 
gressed since  nineteenth-century  days,  when  the 
bodies  of  those  killed  by  the  vehicular  traffic  or 
dead  of  starvation,  were,  they  alleged,  a  com- 
mon feature  in  all  the  busier  streets. 

Denton  and  Elizabeth  sat  apart  in  the  wait- 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  251 

ing-room  until  their  turn  came.  Most  of  the 
others  collected  there  seemed  limp  and  taciturn, 
but  three  or  four  young  people  gaudily 
dressed  made  up  for  the  quietude  of  their  com- 
panions. They  were  life  clients  of  the  Com- 
pany, born  in  the  Company's  creche  and  des- 
tined to  die  in  its  hospital,  and  they  had  been 
out  for  a  spree  with  some  shillings  or  so  of  ex- 
tra pay.  They  talked  vociferously  in  a  later  de- 
velopment of  the  Cockney  dialect,  manifestly 
very  proud  of  themselves. 

Elizabeth's  eyes  went  from  these  to  the  less 
assertive  figures.  One  seemed  exceptionally  piti- 
ful to  her.  It  was  a  woman  of  perhaps  forty- 
five,  with  gold-stained  hair  and  a  painted  face, 
down  which  abundant  tears  had  trickled;  she 
had  a  pinched  nose,  hungry  eyes,  lean  hands 
and  shoulders,  and  her  dusty  worn-out  finery 
told  the  story  of  her  life.  Another  was  a  grey- 
bearded  old  man  in  the  costume  of  a  bishop  of 
one  of  the  high  episcopal  sects — for  religion 
was  now  also  a  business,  and  had  its  ups  and 
downs.  And  beside  him  a  sickly,  dissipated- 
looking  boy  of  perhaps  two-and-twenty  glared 
at  Fate. 

Presently  Elizabeth  and  then  Denton  inter- 
viewed the  manageress — for  the  Company  pre- 
ferred women  in  this  capacity — and  found  she 


252  Time  and  Space 


possessed  an  energetic  face,  a  contemptuous 
manner,  and  a  particularly  unpleasant  voice. 
They  were  given  various  checks,  including  one 
to  certify  that  they  need  not  have  their  heads 
cropped ;  and  when  they  had  given  their  thumb- 
marks,  learnt  the  number  corresponding  there- 
unto, and  exchanged  their  shabby  middle-class 
clothes  for  duly  numbered  blue  canvas  suits, 
they  repaired  to  the  huge  plain  dining-room  for 
their  first  meal  under  these  new  conditions. 
Afterwards  they  were  to  return  to  her  for  in- 
structions about  their  work. 

When  they  had  made  the  exchange  of  their 
clothing  Elizabeth  did  not  seem  able  to  look  at 
Denton  at  first;  but  he  looked  at  her,  and  saw 
with  astonishment  that  even  in  blue  canvas  she 
was  still  beautiful.  And  then  their  soup  and 
bread  came  sliding  on  its  little  rail  down  the 
long  table  towards  them  and  stopped  with  a 
jerk,  and  he  forgot  the  matter.  For  they  had 
had  no  proper  meal  for  three  days. 

After  they  had  dined  they  rested  for  a  time. 
Neither  talked — there  was  nothing  to  say ;  and 
presently  they  got  up  and  went  back  to  the  man- 
ageress to  learn  what  they  had  to  do. 

The  manageress  referred  to  a  tablet.  "Y'r 
rooms  won't  be  here ;  it'll  be  in  the  Highbury 
Ward,  ninety-seventh  way,  number  two  thou- 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  253 


sand  and  seventeen.  Better  make  a  note  of  it  on 
y'r  card.  You,  nought  nought  nought,  type 
seven,  sixty- four,  b.c.d.,  gamma  forty-one,  fe- 
male; you  'ave  to  go  to  the  Metal-beating  Com- 
pany and  try  that  for  a  day — f ourpence  bonus  if 
yeVe  satisfactory;  and  you,  nought  seven  one, 
type  four,  seven  hundred  and  nine,  g.f .b.,  pi  five 
and  ninety,  male ;  you  'ave  to  go  to  the  Photo- 
graphic Company  on  Eighty-first  way,  and 
learn  something  or  other—/  don't  know — 
thrippence.  'Ere's  y'r  cards.  That's  all.  Next! 
What?  Didn't  catch  it  all?  Lor!  So  suppose  I 
must  go  over  it  all  again.  Why  don't  you 
listen?  Keerless,  unprovident  people!  One'd 
think  these  things  didn't  matter." ^ 

Their  ways  to  their  work  lay  together  for  a 
time.  And  now  they  found  they  could  talk. 
Curiously  enough,  the  worst  of  their  depression 
seemed  over  now  that  they  had  actually  donned 
the  blue.  Denton  could  talk  with  interest  even 
of  the  work  that  lay  before  them.  ^Whatever 
it  is,"  he  said,  ''it  can't  be  so  hateful  as  that  hat 
shop.  And  after  we  have  paid  for  Dings,  we 
shall  still  have  a  whole  penny  a  day  between  us 
even  now.  Afterwards — we  may  improve, — » 
get  more  money." 

Elizabeth  was  less  inclined  to  speech.  "I 


254  Time  and  Space 


wonder  why  work  should  seem  so  hateful,"  she 
said. 

''It's  odd/'  said  Denton.  '1  suppose  it 
wouldn't  be  if  it  were  not  the  thought  of  being 
ordered  about.  ...  I  hope  we  shall  have 
decent  managers." 

Elizabeth  did  not  answer.  She  was  not 
thinking  of  that.  She  was  tracing  out  some 
thoughts  of  her  own. 

*'Of  course,"  she  said  presently,  "we  have 
been  using  up  work  all  our  lives.  It's  only 
fair—" 

She  stopped.   It  was  too  intricate. 

''We  paid  for  it,"  said  Denton,  for  at  that 
time  he  had  not  troubled  himself  about  these 
complicated  things. 

''We  did  nothing — and  yet  we  paid  for  it. 
That's  what  I  cannot  understand." 

"Perhaps  we  are  paying,"  said  Elizabeth 
presently — for  her  theology  was  old-fashioned 
and  simple. 

Presently  it  was  time  for  them  to  part,  and 
each  went  to  the  appointed  work.  Denton's 
was  to  mind  a  complicated  hydraulic  press  that 
seemed  almost  an  intelligent  thing.  This  press 
worked  by  the  sea-water  that  was  destined 
finally  to  flush  the  city  drains — for  the  world 
had  long  since  abandoned  the  folly  of  pouring 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  255 


drinkable  water  into  its  sewers.  This  water 
was  brought  close  to  the  eastward  edge  of  the 
city  by  a  huge  canal,  and  then  raised  by  an 
enormous  battery  of  pumps  into  reservoirs  at  a 
level  of  four  hundred  feet  above  the  sea,  from 
which  it  spread  by  a  billion  arterial  branches 
over  the  city.  Thence  it  poured  down,  cleans- 
ing, sluicing,  working  machinery  of  all  sorts, 
through  an  infinite  variety  of  capillary  channels 
into  the  great  drains,  the  cloacae  maxiniae,  and 
so  carried  the  sewage  out  to  the  agricultural 
areas  that  surrounded  London  on  every  side. 

The  press  was  employed  in  one  of  the  pro- 
cesses of  the  photographic  manufacture,  but  the 
nature  of  the  process  it  did  not  concern  Den- 
ton to  understand.  The  most  salient  fact  to  his 
mind  was  that  it  had  to  be  conducted  in  ruby 
light,  and  as  a  consequence  the  room  in  which 
he  worked  was  lit  by  one  coloured  globe  that 
poured  a  lurid  and  painful  illumination  about 
the  room.  In  the  darkest  corner  stood  the  press 
whose  servant  Denton  had  now  become :-  it  was 
a  huge,  dim,  glittering  thing  with  a  projecting 
hood  that  had  a  remote  resemblance  to  a  bowed 
head,  and,  squatting  like  some  metal  Buddha  in 
this  v/eird  light  that  ministered  to  its  needs,  it 
seemed  to  Denton  in  certain  moods  almost  as  if 
this  must  needs  be  the  obscure  idol  to  which 


2c6  Time  and  Space 


humanity  in  some  strange  aberration  had  of- 
fered up  his  Hfe.  His  duties  had  a  varied  mo- 
notony. Such  items  as  the  following  will  con- 
vey an  idea  of  the  service  of  the  press.  The 
thing  worked  with  a  busy  clicking  so  long  as 
things  went  well;  but  if  the  paste  that  came 
pouring  through  a  feeder  from  another  room 
and  which  it  was  perpetually  compressing  into 
thin  plates,  changed  in  quality  the  rhythm  of 
its  click  altered  and  Denton  hastened  to  make 
certain  adjustments.  The  slightest  delay  in- 
volved a  waste  of  paste  and  the  docking  of  one 
or  more  of  his  daily  pence.  If  the  supply  of 
paste  waned — there  were  hand  processes  of  a 
peculiar  sort  involved  in  its  preparation,  and 
sometimes  the  workers  had  convulsions  which 
deranged  their  output — Denton  had  to  throw 
the  press  out  of  gear.  In  the  painful  vigilance 
a  multitude  of  such  trivial  attentions  entailed, 
painful  because  of  the  incessant  effort  its  ab- 
sence of  natural  interest  required,  Denton  had 
now  to  pass  one-third  of  his  days.  Save  for 
an  occasional  visit  from  the  manager,  a  kindly 
but  singularly  foul-mouthed  man,  Denton 
passed  his  working  hours  in  solitude. 

Elizabeth's  work  was  of  a  more  social  sort. 
There  was  a  fashion  for  covering  the  private 
apartments  of  the  very  wealthy  with  metal 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  257 


plates  beautifully  embossed  with  repeated  pat- 
terns. The  taste  of  the  time  demanded,  how- 
ever, that  the  repetition  of  the  patterns  should 
not  be  exact — not  mechanical,  but  ''natural" — 
and  it  was  found  that  the  most  pleasing  ar- 
rangement of  pattern  irregularity  was  obtained 
by  employing  women  of  refinement  and  natural 
taste  to  punch  out  the  patterns  with  small  dites. 
So  many  square  feet  of  plates  was  exacted  from 
Elizabeth  as  a  minimum,  and  for  whatever 
'  square  feet  she  did  in  excess  she  received  a 
small  payment.  The  room,  like  most  rooms  of 
women  workers,  was  under  a  manageress :  men 
had  been  found  by  the  Labour  Company  not 
only  less  exacting  but  extremely  liable  to  ex- 
cuse favoured  ladies  from  a  proper  share  of 
their  duties.  The  manageress  was  a  not  un- 
kindly, taciturn  person,  with  the  hardened  re- 
mains of  beauty  of  the  brunette  type;  and  the 
other  women  workers,  who  of  course  hated  her, 
associated  her  name  scandalously  with  one  of 
the  metal-work  directors  in  order  to  explain 
her  position. 

Only  two  or  three  of  Elizabeth's  fellow- 
workers  were  born  labour  serfs ;  plain,  morose 
girls,  but  most  of  them  corresponded  to  what 
the  nineteenth  century  would  have  called  a  "re- 
duced'' gentlewoman.    But  the  ideal  of  what 

R 


Time  and  Space 


constituted  a  gentlewoman  had  altered:  the 
faint,  faded,  negative  virtue,  the  modulated 
voice  and  restrained  gesture  of  the  old-fash- 
ioned gentlewoman  had  vanished  from  the 
earth.  Most  of  her  companions  showed  in  dis- 
coloured hair,  ruined  complexions,  and  the  tex- 
ture of  their  reminiscent  conversations,  the 
vanished  glories  of  a  conquering  youth.  All  of 
these  artistic  workers  were  much  older  than 
Elizabeth,  and  two  openly  expressed  their  sur- 
prise that  any  one  so  young  and  pleasant  should 
come  to  share  their  toil.  But  Elizabeth  did  not 
trouble  them  with  her  old-world  moral  concep- 
tions. 

They  were  permitted,  and  even  encouraged 
to  converse  with  each  other,  for  the  directors 
very  properly  judged  that  anything  that  con- 
duced to  variations  of  mood  made  for  pleasing 
fluctuations  in  their  patterning;  and  Elizabeth 
was  almost  forced  to  hear  the  stories  of  these 
lives  with  which  her  own  interwove:  garbled 
and  distorted  they  were  by  vanity  indeed  and 
yet  comprehensible  enough.  And  soon  she  be- 
gan to  appreciate  the  small  spites  and  cliques, 
the  little  misunderstandings  and  alliances  that 
enmeshed  about  her.  One  woman  was  exces- 
sively garrulous  and  descriptive  about  a  won- 
derful son  of  hers;  another  had  cultivated  a 


1 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  259 

foolish  coarseness  of  speech,  that  she  seemed  to 
regard  as  the  wittiest  expression  of  originaUty 
conceivable;  a  third  mused  for  ever  on  dress, 
and  whispered  to  Elizabeth  how  she  saved  her 
pence  day  after  day,  and  would  presently  have 
a  glorious  day  of  freedom,  wearing  .  .  .  . 
and  then  followed  hours  of  description;  two 
others  sat  always  together,  and  called  one  an- 
other pet  names,  until  one  day  some  little  thing 
happened,  and  they  sat  apart,  blind  and  deaf  as 
it  seemed  to  one  another's  being.  And  always 
from  them  all  came  an  incessant  tap,  tap,  tap, 
tap,  and  the  manageress  listened  always  to  the 
rhythm  to  mark  if  one  fell  away.  Tap,  tap,  tap, 
tap:  so  their  days  passed,  so  their  lives  must 
pass.  Elizabeth  sat  among  them,  kindly  and 
quiet,  gray-hearted,  marvelling  at  Fate:  tap, 
tap,  tap ;  tap,  tap,  tap ;  tap,  tap,  tap. 

So  there  came  to  Denton  and  Elizabeth  a 
long  succession  of  laborious  days,  that  hard- 
ened their  hands,  wove  strange  threads  of  some 
new  and  sterner  substance  into  the  soft  pretti- 
ness  of  their  lives,  and  drew  grave  lines  and 
shadows  on  their  faces.  The  bright,  convenient 
ways  of  the  former  life  had  receded  to  an  in- 
accessible distance;  slowly  they  learnt  the  les- 
son of  the  under-world — sombre  and  laborious, 
vast  and  pregnant.    There  were  many  little 


26o  Time  and  Space 


things  happened :  things  that  would  be  tedious 
and  miserable  to  tell,  things  that  were  bitter  and 
grievous  to  bear — indignities,  tyrannies,  such 
as  must  ever  season  the  bread  of  the  poor  in 
cities;  and  one  thing  that  was  not  little,  but 
seemed  like  the  utter  blackening  of  life  to  them, 
which  was  that  the  child  they  had  given  life 
to  sickened  and  died.  But  that  story,  that 
ancient,  perpetually  recurring  story,  has  been 
told  so  often,  has  been  told  so  beautifully,  that 
there  is  no  need  to  tell  it  over  again  here.  There 
was  the  same  sharp  fear,  the  same  long  anxiety, 
the  deferred  inevitable  blow,  and  the  black 
silence.  It  has  always  been  the  same;  it  will 
always  be  the  same.  It  is  one  of  the  things  that 
must  be. 

And  it  was  Elizabeth  who  was  the  first  to 
speak,  after  an  aching,  dull  interspace  of  days : 
not,  indeed,  of  the  foolish  little  name  that  was 
a  name  no  longer,  but  of  the  darkness  that 
brooded  over  her  soul.  They  had  come  through 
the  shrieking,  tumultuous  ways  of  the  city  to- 
gether; the  clamour  of  trade,  of  yelling  com- 
petitive religions,  of  political  appeal,  had  beat 
upon  deaf  ears ;  the  glare  of  focussed  lights,  of 
dancing  letters,  and  fiery  advertisements,  had 
fallen  upon  the  set,  miserable  faces  unheeded. 
They  took  their  dinner  in  the  dining-hall  at  a 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  261 

place  apart.  "I  want/'  said  Elizabeth  clumsily, 
''to  go  out  to  the  flying  stages — to  that  seat. 
Here,  one  can  say  nothing.  ..." 

Denton  looked  at  her.  'It  will  be  night," 
he  said. 

"I  have  asked, — it  is  a  fine  night."  She 
stopped. 

He  perceived  she  could  find  no  words  to  ex- 
plain herself.  Suddenly  he  understood  that  she 
wished  to  see  the  stars  once  more,  the  stars  they 
had  watched  together  from  the  open  downland 
in  that  wild  honeymoon  of  theirs  five  years  ago. 
Something  caught  at  his  throat.  He  looked 
away  from  her. 

"There  will  be  plenty  of  time  to  go,"  he  said, 
in  a  matter-of-fact  tone. 

And  at  last  they  came  out  to  their  little  seat 
on  the  flying  stage,  and  sat  there  for  a  long 
time  in  silence.  The  little  seat  was  in  shadow, 
but  the  zenith  was  pale  blue  with  the  effulgence 
of  the  stage  overhead,  and  all  the  city  spread 
below  them,  squares  and  circles  and  patches  of 
brilliance  caught  in  a  mesh-work  of  light.  The 
little  stars  seemed  very  faint  and  small:  near 
as  they  had  been  to  the  old-world  watcher,  they 
had  become  now  infinitely  remote.  Yet  one 
could  see  them  in  the  darkened  patches  amidst 
the  glare,  and  especially  in  the  northward  sky, 


262  Time  and  Space 

the  ancient  constellations  gliding  steadfast  and 
patient  about  the  pole. 

Long  our  two  people  sat  in  silence,  and  at 
last  Elizabeth  sighed. 

''If  I  understood/'  she  said,  ''if  I  could  un- 
derstand." When  one  is  down  there  the  city 
seems  everything — the  noise,  the  hurry,  the 
voices — you  must  live,  you  must  scramble. 
Here — it  is  nothing ;  a  thing  that  passes.  One 
can  think  in  peace." 

"Yes,"  said  Denton.  "How  flimsy  it  all  is! 
From  here  more  than  half  of  it  is  swallowed 
by  the  night.    ...    It  will  pass." 

"We  shall  pass  first,"  said  Elizabeth. 

"I  know,"  said  Denton.  "If  life  were  not  a 
moment,  the  whole  of  history  would  seem  like 
the  happening  of  a  day.  .  .  Yes — we  shall 
pass.  And  the  city  will  pass,  and  all  the  things 
that  are  to  come.  Man  and  the  Overman  and 
wonders  unspeakable.    And  yet.    .  ." 

He  paused,  and  then  began  afresh.  "I  know 
what  you  feel.  At  least  I  fancy.  .  .  Down 
there  one  thinks  of  one's  work,  one's  little  vexa- 
tions and  pleasures,  one's  eating  and  drinking 
and  ease  and  pain.  One  lives,  and  one  must 
die.  Dov^m  there  and  everyday — our  sorrow 
seemed  the  end  of  life.    .    .  . 

"Up  here  it  is  different.   For  instance,  down 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  263 

there  it  would  seem  impossible  almost  to  go  on 
living  if  one  were  horribly  disfigured,  horribly 
crippled,  disgraced.  Up  here — under  these 
stars — none  of  those  things  would  matter. 
They  don't  matter.  .  .  .  They  are  a  part 
of  something.  One  seems  just  to  touch  that 
something — under  the  stars.    .  . 

He  stopped.  The  vague,  impalpable  things 
in  his  mind,  cloudy  emotions  half  shaped  to- 
wards ideas,  vanished  before  the  rough  grasp 
of  words.  "It  is  hard  to  express,''  he  said 
lamely. 

They  sat  through  a  long  stillness. 

"It  is  well  to  come  here,"  he  said  at  last. 
"We  stop — our  minds  are  very  finite.  After 
all  we  are  just  poor  animals  rising  out  of  the 
brute,  each  with  a  mind,  the  poor  beginning  of 
a  mind.  We  are  so  stupid.  So  much  hurts. 
And  yet.  . 

"I  know,  I  know — and  some  day  we  shall 
see. 

"All  this  frightful  stress,  all  this  discord  will 
resolve  to  harmony,  and  we  shall  know  it. 
Nothing  is  but  it  makes  for  that.  Nothing. 
All  the  failures — every  little  thing  makes  for 
that  harmony.  Everything  is  necessary  to  it, 
we  shall  find.  We  shall  find.  Nothing,  not 
even  the  most  dreadful  thing,  could  be  left  out. 


264  Time  and  Space 


Not  even  the  most  trivial.  Every  tap  of  your 
hammer  on  the  brass,  every  moment  of  work, 
my  idleness  even.  .  .  Dear  one!  every 
movement  of  our  poor  little  one.  .  .  All 
these  things  go  on  for  ever.  And  the  faint  im- 
palpable things.  We,  sitting  here  together. — 
Everything.    .  . 

*'The  passion  that  joined  us,  and  what  has 
come  since.  It  is  not  passion  now.  More  than 
anything  else  it  is  sorrow.   Dear,  . 

He  could  say  no  more,  could  follow  his 
thoughts  no  further. 

Elizabeth  made  no  answer — she  was  very 
still;  but  presently  her  hand  sought  his  and 
found  it. 

IV  UNDERNEATH 

Under  the  stars  one  may  reach  upward  and 
touch  resignation,  whatever  the  evil  thing  may 
be,  but  in  the  heat  and  stress  of  the  day's  work 
we  lapse  again,  come  disgust  and  anger  and  in- 
tolerable moods.  How  little  is  all  our  mag- 
nanimity— an  accident!  a  phase!  The  very 
Saints  of  old  had  first  to  flee  the  world.  And 
Denton  and  his  Elizabeth  could  not  flee  their 
world,  no  longer  were  there  open  roads  to  un- 
claimed lands  where  men  might  live  freely — 
however  hardly — ^and  keep  their  souls  in  peace. 
The  city  had  swallowed  up  mankind. 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  265 

For  a  time  these  two  Labour  Serfs  were  kept 
at  their  original  occupations,  she  at  her  brass 
stamping  and  Denton  at  his  press;  and  then 
came  a  move  for  him  that  brought  with  it  fresh 
and  still  bitterer  experiences  of  life  in  the  un- 
derways  of  the  great  city.  He  was  transferred 
to  the  care  of  a  rather  more  elaborate  press  in 
the  central  factory  of  the  London  Tile  Trust. 

In  this  new  situation  he  had  to  work  in  a 
long  vaulted  room  with  a  number  of  other  men, 
for  the  most  part  born  Labour  Serfs.  He  came 
to  this  intercourse  reluctantly.  His  upbringing 
had  been  refined,  and,  until  his  ill  fortune  had 
brought  him  to  that  costume,  he  had  never 
spoken  in  his  life,  except  by  way  of  command 
or  some  immediate  necessity,  to  the  white-faced 
wearers  of  the  blue  canvas.  Now  at  last  came 
contact;  he  had  to  work  beside  them,  share 
their  tools,  eat  with  them.  To  both  Elizabeth 
and  himself  this  seemed  a  further  degradation. 

His  taste  would  have  seemed  extreme  to  a 
man  of  the  nineteenth  century.  But  slowly 
and  inevitably  in  the  intervening  years  a  gulf 
had  opened  between  the  wearers  of  the  blue 
canvas  and  the  classes  above,  a  dif¥erence  not 
simply  of  circumstances  and  habits  of  life,  but 
of  habits  of  thought — even  of  language.  The 
under  ways  had  developed  a  dialect  of  their 


266  Time  and  Space 


own :  above,  too,  had  arisen  a  dialect,  a  code  of 
thought,  a  language  of  ''culture,"  which  aimed 
by  a  sedulous  search  after  fresh  distinction  to 
widen  perpetually  the  space  between  itself  and 
'Vulgarity/'  The  bond  of  a  common  faith, 
moreover,  no  longer  held  the  race  together. 
The  last  years  of  the  nineteenth  century  were 
distinguished  by  the  rapid  development  among 
the  prosperous  idle  of  esoteric  perversions  of 
the  popular  religion:  glosses  and  interpreta- 
tions that  reduced  the  broad  teachings  of  the 
carpenter  of  Nazareth  to  the  exquisite  narrow- 
ness of  their  lives.  And,  spite  of  their  inclina- 
tion towards  the  ancient  fashion  of  living, 
neither  Elizabeth  nor  Denton  had  been  suffi- 
ciently original  to  escape  the  suggestion  of 
their  surroundings.  In  matters  of  common  be- 
haviour they  had  followed  the  ways  of  their 
class,  and  so  when  they  fell  at  last  to  be  Labour 
Serfs  it  seemed  to  them  almost  as  though  they 
were  falling  among  offensive  inferior  animals; 
they  felt  as  a  nineteenth-century  duke  and 
duchess  might  have  felt  who  were  forced  to 
take  rooms  in  the  Jago. 

Their  natural  impulse  was  to  maintain  a 
''distance."  But  Denton's  first  idea  of  a  digni- 
fied isolation  from  his  new  surroundings  was 
soon  rudely  dispelled.    He  had  imagined  that 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  267 

his  fall  to  the  position  of  a  Labour  Serf  was  the 
end  of  his  lesson,  that  when  their  little  daughter 
had  died  he  had  plumbed  the  deeps  of  life ;  but 
indeed  these  things  were  only  the  beginning. 
Life  demands  something  more  from  us  than 
acquiescence.  And  now  in  a  roomful  of  ma- 
chine minders  he  was  to  learn  a  wider  lesson,  to 
make  the  acquaintance  of  another  factor  in  life, 
a  factor  as  elemental  as  the  loss  of  things  dear 
to  us,  more  elemental  even  than  toil. 

His  quiet  discouragement,  of  conversation 
was  an  immediate  cause  of  offence — was  inter- 
preted, rightly  enough  I  fear,  as  disdain.  His 
ignorance  of  the  vulgar  dialect,  a  thing  upon 
which  he  had  hitherto  prided  himself,  suddenly 
took  upon  itself  a  new  aspect.  He  failed  to 
perceive  at  once  that  his  reception  of  the  coarse 
and  stupid  but  genially  intended  remarks  that 
greeted  his  appearance  must  have  stung  the 
makers  of  these  advances  like  blows  in  their 
faces.  ^'Don't  understand,"  he  said  rather 
coldly,  and  at  hazard,  "No,  thank  you.'' 

The  man  who  had  addressed  him  stared, 
scowled,  and  turned  away. 

A  second,  who  also  failed  at  Denton's  unac- 
customed ear,  took  the  trouble  to  repeat  his  re- 
mark, and  Denton  discovered  he  was  being  of- 
fered the  use  of  an  oil  can.   He  expressed  polite 


268  Time  and  Space 


thanks,  and  this  second  man  embarked  upon  a 
penetrating  conversation.  Denton,  he  re- 
marked, had  been  a  swell,  and  he  wanted  to 
know  how  he  had  come  to  wear  the  blue.  He 
clearly  expected  an  interesting  record  of  vice 
and  extravagance.  Had  Denton  ever  been  at  a 
Pleasure  City?  Denton  was  speedily  to  dis- 
cover how  the  existence  of  these  w^onderful 
places  of  delight  permeated  and  defiled  the 
thought  and  honour  of  these  unwilling,  hope- 
less workers  of  the  underworld. 

His  aristocratic  temperament  resented  these 
questions.  He  answered  *'No"  curtly.  The 
man  persisted  with  a  still  more  personal  ques- 
tion, and  this  time  it  was  Denton  who  turned 
away. 

''Gorblimey !"  said  his  interlocutor,  much  as- 
tonished. 

It  presently  forced  itself  upon  Denton's  mind 
that  this  remarkable  conversation  was  being  re- 
peated in  indignant  tones  to  more  sympathetic 
hearers,  and  that  it  gave  rise  to  astonishment 
and  ironical  laughter.  They  looked  at  Denton 
with  manifestly  enhanced  interest.  A  curious 
perception  of  isolation  dawned  upon  him.  He 
tried  to  think  of  his  press  and  its  unfamiliar 
peculiarities. 

The  machines  kept  everybody  pretty  busy 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  269 

during  the  first  spell,  and  then  came  a  recess. 
It  was  only  an  interval  for  refreshment,  too 
brief  for  any  one  to  go  out  to  a  Labour  Com- 
pany dining-room.  Denton  followed  his  fel- 
low-workers into  a  short  gallery,  in  which  were 
a  number  of  bins  of  refuse  from  the  presses. 

Each  man  produced  a  packet  of  food.  Den- 
ton had  no  packet.  The  manager,  a  careless 
young  man  who  held  his  position  by  influence, 
had  omitted  to  warn  Denton  that  it  was  neces- 
sary to  apply  for  this  provision.  He  stoo4 
apart,  feeling  hungry.  The  others  drew  to- 
gether in  a  group  and  talked  in  undertones, 
glancing  at  him  ever  and  again.  He  became 
uneasy.  His  appearance  of  disregard  cost  him 
an  increasing  effort.  He  tried  to  think  of  the 
levers  of  his  new  press. 

Presently  one,  a  man  shorter  but  much 
broader  and  stouter  than  Denton,  came  for- 
ward to  him.  Denton  turned  to  him  as  uncon- 
cernedly as  possible.  ''Here!''  said  the  dele- 
gate— as  Denton  judged  him  to  be — extending 
a  cube  of  bread  in  a  not  too  clean  hand.  He 
had  a  swart,  broad-nosed  face,  and  his  mouth 
hung  down  towards  one  corner. 

Denton  felt  doubtful  for  the  instant  whether 
this  was  meant  for  civility  or  insult.  His  im- 
pulse was  to  decline.    "No,  thanks,"  he  said; 


270  Time  and  Space 


and,  at  the  man's  change  of  expression,  "I'm 
not  hungry." 

There  came  a  laugh  from  the  group  behind. 
''Told  you  so,"  said  the  man  who  had  offered 
Denton  the  loan  of  an  oil  can.  ''He's  top  side, 
he  is.    You  ain't  good  enough  for  'im." 

The  swart  face  grew  a  shade  darker. 

"Here,"  said  its  owner,  still  extending  the 
bread,  and  speaking  in  a  lower  tone ;  "you  got 
to  eat  this.  See?" 

Denton  looked  into  the  threatening  face  be- 
fore him,  and  odd  little  currents  of  energy 
seemed  to  be  running  through  his  limbs  and 
body. 

"I  don't  want  it,"  he  said,  trying  a  pleasant 
smile  that  twitched  and  failed. 

The  thickset  man  advanced  his  face,  and  the 
bread  became  a  physical  threat  in  his  hand. 
Denton's  mind  rushed  together  to  the  one  prob- 
lem of  his  antagonist's  eyes. 

"Eat  it,"  said  the  swart  man. 

There  came  a  pause,  and  then  they  both 
moved  quickly.  The  cube  of  bread  described  a 
complicated  path,  a  curve  that  would  have 
ended  in  Denton's  face ;  and  then  his  fist  hit  the 
wrist  of  the  hand  that  gripped  it,  and  it  flew 
upward,  and  out  of  the  conflict — its  part 
played. 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  271 

He  stepped  back  quickly,  fists  clenched  and 
arms  tense.  The  hot,  dark  countenance  re- 
ceded, became  an  alert  hostility,  watching  its 
chance.  Denton  for  one  instant  felt  confident, 
and  strangely  buoyant  and  serene.  His  heart 
beat  quickly.  He  felt  his  body  alive,  and  glow- 
ing to  the  tips. 

''Scrap,  boys!''  shouted  some  one,  and  then 
the  dark  figure  had  leapt  forward,  ducked  back 
and  sideways,  and  come  in  again.  Denton 
struck  out,  and  was  hit.  One  of  his  eyes 
seemed  to  him  to  be  demolished,  and  he  felt  a 
soft  lip  under  his  fist  just  before  he  was  hit 
again — this  time  under  the  chin.  A  huge  fan 
of  fiery  needles  shot  open.  He  had  a  momen- 
tary persuasion  that  his  head  was  knocked  to 
pieces,  and  then  something  hit  his  head  and 
back  from  behind,  and  the  fight  became  an  un- 
interesting, an  impersonal  thing. 

He  was  aware  that  time — seconds  or  min- 
utes— had  passed,  abstract,  uneventful  time. 
He  was  lying  with  his  head  in  a  heap  of  ashes, 
and  something  wet  and  warm  ran  swiftly  into 
his  neck.  The  first  shock  broke  up  into  dis- 
crete sensations.  All  his  head  throbbed;  his 
eye  and  his  chin  throbbed  exceedingly,  and  the 
taste  of  blood  was  in  his  mouth. 


272  Time  and  Space 

''He's  all  right/'  said  a  voice.  ''He's  open- 
ing his  eyes." 

"Serve  him  well  right,"  said  a  second. 

His  mates  were  standing  about  him.  He 
made  an  effort  and  sat  up.  He  put  his  hand 
to  the  back  of  his  head,  and  his  hair  was  wet 
and  full  of  cinders.  A  laugh  greeted  the  ges- 
ture. His  eye  was  partially  closed.  He  per- 
ceived what  had  happened.  His  momentary 
anticipation  of  a  final  victory  had  vanished. 

"Looks  surprised,"  said  some  one. 

'"Ave  any  more?"  said  a  wit;  and  then,  imi- 
tating Denton's  refined  accent. 

"No,  thank  you." 

Denton  perceived  the  swart  man  with  a 
blood-stained  handkerchief  before  his  face,  and 
somewhat  in  the  background. 

"Where's  that  bit  of  bread  he's  got  to  eat?" 
said  a  little  ferret-faced  creature;  and  sought 
with  his  foot  in  the  ashes  of  the  adjacent  bin. 

Denton  had  a  moment  of  internal  debate.  He 
knew  the  code  of  honour  requires  a  man  to  pur- 
sue a  fight  he  has  begun  to  the  bitter  end ;  but 
this  was  his  first  taste  of  the  bitterness.  He  was 
resolved  to  rise  again,  but  he  felt  no  passionate 
impulse.  It  occurred  to  him — and  the  thought 
was  no  very  violent  spur — that  he  was  perhaps 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  273 


after  all  a  coward.  For  a  moment  his  will  was 
heavy,  a  lump  of  lead. 

'''Ere  it  is/'  said  the  little  ferret-faced  man, 
and  stooped  to  pick  up  a  cindery  cube.  He 
looked  at  Denton,  then  at  the  others. 

Slowly,  unwillingly,  Denton  stood  up. 

A  dirty-faced  albino  extended  a  hand  to  the 
ferret-faced  man.  ''Gimme  that  toke,''  he  said. 
He  advanced  threateningly,  bread  in  hand,  to 
Denton.  "So  you  ain't  'ad  your  bellyful  yet," 
he  said.  "Eh?" 

Now  it  was  coming.  "No,  I  haven't,"  said 
Denton,  with  a  catching  of  the  breath,  and  re- 
solved to  try  this  brute  behind  the  ear  before 
he  himself  got  stunned  again.  He  knew  he 
would  be  stunned  again.  He  was  astonished 
how  ill  he  had  judged  himself  beforehand.  A 
few  ridiculous  lunges,  and  down  he  would  go 
again.  He  watched  the  albino's  eyes.  The  al- 
bino was  grinning  confidently,  like  a  man  who 
plans  an  agreeable  trick.  A  sudden  perception 
of  impending  indignities  stung  Denton. 

"You  leave  'im  alone,  Jim,"  said  the  swart 
man  suddenly  over  the  blood-stained  rag.  "He 
ain't  done  nothing  to  you." 

The  albino's  grin  vanished.  He  stopped. 
He  looked  from  one  to  the  other.    It  seemed 

to  Denton  that  the  swart  man  demanded  the 

s 


274  Time  and  Space 


privilege  of  his  destruction.  The  albino  would 
have  been  better. 

''You  leave  'im  alone/'  said  the  swart  man. 
''See?   'E's 'ad 'is  licks." 

A  clattering  bell  lifted  up  its  voice  and  solved 
the  situation.  The  albino  hesitated.  "Lucky 
for  you,"  he  said,  adding  a  foul  metaphor,  and 
turned  with  the  others  towards  the  press-room 
again.  "Wait  for  the  end  of  the  spell,  mate," 
said  the  albino  over  his  shoulder — an  after- 
thought. The  swart  man  waited  for  the  albino 
to  precede  him.  Denton  realised  that  he  had  a 
reprieve. 

The  men  passed  towards  an  open  door.  Den- 
ton became  aware  of  his  duties,  and  hurried  to 
join  the  tail  of  the  queue.  At  the  doorway  of 
the  vaulted  gallery  of  presses  a  yellow-uni- 
formed labour  policeman  stood  ticking  a  card. 
He  had  ignored  the  swart  man's  haemorrhage. 

"Hurry  up  there!"  he  said  to  Denton. 

"Hello!"  he  said,  at  the  sight  of  his  facial 
disarray.    "Who's  been  hitting  you?" 

"That's  my  affair,"  said  Denton. 

"Not  if  it  spiles  your  work,  it  ain't,"  said  the 
man  in  yellow.    "You  mind  that." 

Denton  made  no  answer.  He  was  a  rough — 
a  labourer.    He  wore  the  blue  canvas.  The 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  275 

laws  of  assault  and  battery,  he  knew,  were  not 
for  the  likes  of  him.    He  went  to  his  press. 

He  could  feel  the  skin  of  his  brow  and  chin 
and  head  lifting  themselves  to  noble  bruises, 
felt  the  throb  and  pain  of  each  aspiring  contu- 
sion. His  nervous  system  slid  down  to 
lethargy ;  at  each  movement  in  his  press  adjust- 
ment he  felt  he  lifted  a  weight.  And  as  for  his 
honour — that  too  throbbed  and  puffed.  How 
did  he  stand?  What  precisely  had  happened 
in  the  last  ten  minutes?  What  would  happe^n 
next?  He  knew  that  here  was  enormous  mat- 
ter for  thought,  and  he  could  not  think  save  in 
disordered  snatches. 

His  mood  was  a  sort  of  stagnant  astonish- 
ment.  All  his  conceptions  were  overthrown. 
He  had  regarded  his  security  from  physical  vio- 
lence as  inherent,  as  one  of  the  conditions  of 
life.  So,  indeed,  it  had  been  while  he  wore  his 
middle-class  costume,  had  his  middle-class 
property  to  serve  for  his  defence.  But  who 
would  interfere  among  Labour  roughs  fighting 
together?  And  indeed  in  those  days  no  man 
would.  In  the  Underworld  there  was  no  law 
between  man  and  man ;  the  law  and  machinery 
of  the  state  had  become  for  them  something 
that  held  men  down,  fended  them  off  from 
much  desirable  property  and  pleasure,  and  that 


276  Time  and  Space 


was  all.  Violence,  that  ocean  in  which  the 
brutes  live  for  ever,  and  from  which  a  thousand 
dykes  and  contrivances  have  won  our  hazard- 
ous civilised  life,  had  flowed  in  again  upon  the 
sinking  underways  and  submerged  them.  The 
fist  ruled.  Denton  had  come  right  down  at  last 
to  the  elemental — ^fist  and  trick  and  the  stub- 
born heart  and  fellowship — even  as  it  was  in 
the  beginning. 

The  rhythm  of  his  machine  changed,  and  his 
thoughts  were  interrupted. 

Presently  he  could  think  again.  Strange  how 
quickly  things  had  happened!  He  bore  these 
men  who  had  thrashed  him  no  very  vivid  ill- 
will.  He  was  bruised  and  enlightened.  He 
saw  with  absolute  fairness  now  the  reasonable- 
ness of  his  unpopularity.  He  had  behaved  like 
a  fool.  Disdain,  seclusion,  are  the  privilege  of 
the  strong.  The  fallen  aristocrat  still  clinging 
to  his  pointless  distinction  is  surely  the  most 
pitiful  creature  of  pretence  in  all  this  claimant 
universe.  Good  heavens!  what  was  there  for 
him  to  despise  in  these  men? 

What  a  pity  he  had  not  appreciated  all  this 
better  five  hours  ago! 

What  would  happen  at  the  end  of  the  spell? 
He  could  not  tell.   He  could  not  imagine.   He  ' 
could  not  imagine  the  thoughts  of  these  men. 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  277 

He  was  sensible  only  of  their  hostility  and  utter 
want  of  sympathy.  Vague  possibilities  of 
shame  and  violence  chased  one  another  across 
his  mind.  Could  he  devise  some  weapon  ?  He 
recalled  his  assault  upon  the  hypnotist,  but  there 
were  no  detachable  lamps  here.  He  could  see 
nothing  that  he  could  catch  up  in  his  defence. 

For  a  space  he  thought  of  a  headlong  bolt 
for  the  security  of  the  public  ways  directly  the 
spell  was  over.  Apart  from  the  trivial  con- 
sideration of  his  self-respect,  he  perceived  that 
this  would  be  only  a  foolish  postponement  and 
aggravation  of  his  trouble.  He  perceived  the 
ferret-faced  man  and  the  albino  talking  to- 
gether with  their  eyes  towards  him.  Presently 
they  were  talking  to  the  swart  man,  who  stood 
with  his  broad  back  studiously  towards  Den- 
ton. 

At  last  came  the  end  of  the  second  spell.  The 
lender  of  oil  cans  stopped  his  press  sharply  and 
turned  round,  wiping  his  mouth  with  the  back 
of  his  hand.  His  eyes  had  the  quiet  expecta- 
tion of  one  who  seats  himself  in  a  theatre. 

Now  was  the  crisis,  and  all  the  little  nerves 
of  Denton's  being  seemed  leaping  and  dancing. 
He  had  decided  to  show  fight  if  any  fresh  in- 
dignity was  oflFered  him.  He  stopped  his  press 
and  turned.    With  an  enormous  affectation  of 


278  Time  and  Space 

ease  he  walked  down  the  vault  and  entered  the 
passage  of  the  ash  pits,  only  to  discover  he  had 
left  his  jacket — which  he  had  taken  off  because 
of  the  heat  of  the  vault — beside  his  press.  He 
walked  back.   He  met  the  albino  eye  to  eye. 

He  heard  the  ferret-faced  man  in  expostula- 
tion. '''E  reely  ought,  eat  it,''  said  the  ferret- 
faced  man.    '''E  did  reely." 

''No — you  leave  'im  alone,"  said  the  swart 
man. 

Apparently  nothing  further  was  to  happen  to 
him  that  day.  He  passed  out  to  the  passage 
and  staircase  that  led  up  to  the  moving  plat- 
forms of  the  city. 

He  emerged  on  the  livid  brilliance  and 
streaming  movement  of  the  public  street.  He 
became  acutely  aware  of  his  disfigured  face,  and 
felt  his  swelling  bruises  with  a  limp,  investiga- 
tory hand.  He  went  up  to  the  swiftest  plat- 
form, and  seated  himself  on  a  Labour  Com- 
pany bench. 

He  lapsed  into  a  pensive  torpor.  The  imme- 
diate dangers  and  stresses  of  his  position  he  saw 
with  a  sort  of  static  clearness.  What  would 
they  do  to-morrow  ?  He  could  not  tell.  What 
would  Elizabeth  think  of  his  brutalisation  ?  He 
could  not  tell.  He  was  exhausted.  He  was 
aroused  presently  by  a  hand  upon  his  arm. 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  279 

He  looked  up,  and  saw  the  swart  man  seated 
beside  him.  He  started.  Surely  he  was  safe 
from  violence  in  the  public  way ! 

The  swart  man's  face  retained  no  traces  of 
his  share  in  the  fight;  his  expression  was  free 
from  hostility — seemed  almost  deferential. 
"'Scuse  me,"  he  said,  with  a  total  absence  of 
truculence.  Denton  realised  that  no  assault  was 
intended.  He  stared,  awaiting  the  next  de- 
velopment. 

It  was  evident  the  next  sentence  was  pre- 
meditated. ''Whad — I — was — going — to  say 
— was  this,"  said  the  swart  man,  and  sought 
through  a  silence  for  further  words. 

"Whad — I  —  was  —  going  —  to  say  —  was 
this,"  he  repeated. 

Finally  he  abandoned  that  gambit.  ^^You^re 
aw  right,"  he  cried,  laying  a  grimy  hand  on 
Denton's  grimy  sleeve.  ^^You're  aw  right. 
You're  a  ge'man.  Sorry — very  sorry.  Wanted 
to  tell  you  that." 

Denton  realised  that  there  must  exist  motives 
beyond  a  mere  impulse  to  abominable  proceed- 
ings in  the  man.  He  meditated,  and  swallowed 
an  unworthy  pride. 

'^I  did  not  mean  to  be  offensive  to  you,"  he 
said,  ''in  refusing  that  bit  of  bread." 

^'Meant  it  friendly,"  said  the  swart  man,  re- 


280  Time  and  Space 

calling  the  scene;  ''but — in  front  of  that 
blarsted  Whitey  and  his  snigger — Well — I  'ad 
to  scrap/' 

''Yes/'  said  Denton  with  sudden  fervour:  "I 
was  a  fool." 

"Ah!''  said  the  swart  man,  with  great  satis- 
faction.  'T/^af^  aw  right.  Shake!" 

And  Denton  shook. 

The  moving  platform  was  rushing  by  the  es- 
tablishment of  a  face  moulder,  and  its  lower 
front  was  a  huge  display  of  mirror,  designed  to 
stimulate  the  thirst  for  more  symmetrical 
features.  Denton  caught  the  reflection  of  him- 
self and  his  new  friend,  enormously  twisted  and 
broadened.  His  own  face  was  puf¥ed,  one- 
sided, and  blood-stained ;  a  grin  of  idiotic  and 
insincere  amiability  distorted  its  latitude.  A 
wisp  of  hair  occluded  one  eye.  The  trick  of  the 
mirror  presented  the  swart  man  as  a  gross  ex- 
pansion of  lip  and  nostril.  They  were  linked 
by  shaking  hands.  Then  abruptly  this  vision 
passed — to  return  to  memory  in  the  anaemic 
meditations  of  a  waking  dawn. 
4  As  he  shook,  the  swart  man  made  some  mud- 
dled remark,  to  the  effect  that  he  had  always 
known  he  could  get  on  with  a  gentleman  if  one 
came  his  way.  He  prolonged  the  shaking  un- 
til Denton,  under  the  influence  of  the  mirror, 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  281 


withdrew  his  hand.  The  swart  man  became 
pensive,  spat  impressively  on  the  platform,  and 
resumed  his  theme. 

Whad  I  was  going  to  say  was  this,"  he  said ; 
was  gravelled,  and  shook  his  head  at  his  foot. 

Denton  became  curious.  "Go  on,"  he  said, 
attentive. 

The  swart  man  took  the  plunge.  He  grasped 
Denton's  arm,  became  intimate  in  his  attitude. 
'''Scuse  me,"  he  said.  'Tact  is,  you  done  know 
'ow  to  scrap.  Done  know  'ow  to.  Why — ^you 
done  know  'ow  to  begin.  You'll  get  killed  if 
you  don't  mind.  'Ouldin'  your  'ands —  There  T 

He  reinforced  his  statement  by  objurgation, 
watching  the  effect  of  each  oath  with  a  wary 
eye. 

'T'r  instance.  You're  tall.  Long  arms. 
You  get  a  longer  reach  than  any  one  in  the 
brasted  vault.  Gobblimey,  but  I  thought  I'd 
got  a  Tough  on.  'Stead  of  which.  .  . 
'Scuse  me.  I  wouldn't  have  'it  you  if  I'd 
known.  It's  like  fighting  sacks.  'Tisn'  right. 
Y'r  arms  seemed  'ung  on  'ooks.  Reg'lar — 'ung 
on  'ooks.  There!" 

Denton  stared,  and  then  surprised  and  hurt 
his  battered  chin  by  a  sudden  laugh.  Bitter 
tears  came  into  his  eyes. 

"Go  on,"  he  said. 


282  Time  and  Space 


The  swart  man  reverted  to  his  formula.  He 
was  good  enough  to  say  he  Uked  the  look  of 
Denton,  thought  he  had  stood  up  ''amazing 
plucky.  On'y  pluck  ain't  no  good — ain't  no 
brasted  good — if  you  don't  'old  your  'ands. 

''Whad  I  was  going  to  say  w^as  this/'  he  said. 
''Lemme  show  you  'ow  to  scrap.  Jest  lemme. 
You're  ig'nant,  you  ain't  no  class;  but  you 
might  be  a  very  decent  scrapper — very  decent. 
Shown.    That's  what  I  meant  to  say.'' 

Denton  hesitated.  ''But — "  he  said,  "I  can't 
give  you  anything — " 

"That's  the  ge'man  all  over/'  said  the  swart 
man.    "Who  arst  you  to?" 

"But  your  time?" 

"If  you  don't  get  learnt  scrapping  you'll  get 
killed, — don't  you  make  no  bones  of  that." 

Denton  thought.    "I  don't  know/'  he  said. 

He  looked  at  the  face  beside  him,  and  all  its 
native  coarseness  shouted  at  him.  He  felt  a 
quick  revulsion  from  his  transient  friendliness. 
It  seemed  to  him  incredible  that  it  should  be 
necessary  for  him  to  be  indebted  to  such  a  crea- 
ture. 

"The  chaps  are  always  scrapping/'  said  the 
swart  man.  "Always.  And,  of  course — if  one 
gets  waxy  and  'its  you  vital.    .  /' 


II 

A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  283 


"By  God!"  cried  Denton;  "I  wish  one 
would/' 

''Of  course,  if  you  feel  like  that — " 

''You  don't  understand." 

"P'raps  I  don't,"  said  the  swart  man;  and 
lapsed  into  a  fuming  silence. 

When  he  spoke  again  his  voice  was  less 
friendly,  and  he  prodded  Denton  by  way  of  ad- 
dress. "Look  see !"  he  said :  "are  you  going  to 
let  me  show  you  'ow  to  scrap  ?"  ^ 

"It's  tremendously  kind  of  you,"  said  Den- 
ton; "but—" 

There  was  a  pause.  The  swart  man  rose  and 
bent  over  Denton. 

"Too  much  ge'man,"  he  said — "eh?  I  got  a 
red  face.  .  .  By  gosh !  you  are — you  are  a 
brasted  fool!" 

He  turned  away,  and  instantly  Denton  real- 
ised the  truth  of  this  remark. 

The  swart  man  descended  with  dignity  to  a 
cross  way,  and  Denton,  after  a  momentary  im- 
pulse to  pursuit,  remained  on.  the  platform.  For 
a  time  the  things  that  had  happened  filled  his 
mind.  In  one  day  his  graceful  system  of  resig- 
nation had  been  shattered  beyond  hope.  Brute 
force,  the  final,  the  fundamental,  had  thrust  its 
face  through  all  his  explanations  and  glosses 
and  consolations  and  grinned  enigmaticall)^ 


284  Time  and  Space 


Though  he  was  hungry  and  tired,  he  did  not  go 
on  directly  to  the  Labour  Hotel,  where  he 
would  meet  Elizabeth.  He  found  he  was  be- 
ginning to  think,  he  wanted  very  greatly  to 
think ;  and  so,  wrapped  in  a  monstrous  cloud 
of  meditation,  he  went  the  circuit  of  the  city  on 
his  moving  platform  twice.  You  figure  him, 
tearing  through  the  glaring,  thunder-voiced 
city  at  a  pace  of  fifty  miles  an  hour,  the  city 
upon  the  planet  that  spins  along  its  chartless 
path  through  space  many  thousands  of  miles  an 
hour,  funking  most  terribly,  and  trying  to  un- 
derstand why  the  heart  and  will  in  him  should 
suffer  and  keep  alive. 

When  at  last  he  came  to  Elizabeth,  she  was 
white  and  anxious.  He  might  have  noted  she 
was  in  trouble,  had  it  not  been  for  his  own  pre- 
occupation. He  feared  most  that  she  would  de- 
sire to  know  every  detail  of  his  indignities,  that 
she  would  be  sympathetic  or  indignant.  He  saw 
her  eyebrows  rise  at  the  sight  of  him. 

"I've  had  rough  handling,"  he  said,  and 
gasped.  "It's  too  fresh — too  hot.  I  don't  want 
to  talk  about  it."  He  sat  down  with  an  un- 
avoidable air  of  sullenness. 

She  stared  at  him  in  astonishment,  and  as 
she  read  something  of  the  significant  hierogly- 
phic of  his  battered  face,  her  lips  whitened. 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  285 

Her  hand — it  was  thinner  now  than  in  the  days 
of  their  prosperity,  and  her  first  finger  was  a 
Uttle  altered  by  the  metal  punching  she  did — 
clenched  convulsively.  'This  horrible  world!" 
she  said,  and  said  no  more. 

In  these  latter  days  they  had  become  a  very 
silent  couple ;  they  said  scarcely  a  word  to  each 
other  that  night,  but  each  followed  a  private 
train  of  thought.  In  the  small  hours,  as  Eliza- 
beth lay  awake,  Denton  started  up  beside  her 
suddenly — he  had  been  lying  as  still  as  a  dead 
man. 

"1  cannot  stand  itT'  cried  Denton.  "I  will 
not  stand  it!" 

She  saw  him  dimly,  sitting  up ;  saw  his  arm 
lunge  as  if  in  a  furious  blow  at  the  enshrouding 
night.   Then  for  a  space  he  was  still. 

''It  is  too  much — it  is  more  than  one  can 
bear !" 

She  could  say  nothing.  To  her,  also,  it 
seemed  that  this  was  as  far  as  one  could  go. 
She  waited  through  a  long  stillness.  She  could 
see  that  Denton  sat  with  his  arms  about  his 
knees,  his  chin  almost  touching  them. 

Then  he  laughed. 

"No,"  he  said  at  last,  'Tm  going  to  stand 
it.  That's  the  peculiar  thing.  There  isn't  a 
grain  of  suicide  in  us — not  a  grain.   I  suppose 


< 


286  Time  and  Space 

all  the  people  with  a  turn  that  way  have  gone. 
We're  going  through  with  it — to  the  end." 

Elizabeth  thought  grayly,  and  realised  that 
this  also  was  true. 

^We're  going  through  with  it.  To  think  of 
all  who  have  gone  through  with  it :  all  the  gen- 
erations— endless — endless.  Little  beasts  that 
snapped  and  snarled,  snapping  and  snarling, 
snapping  and  snarling,  generation  after  genera- 
tion.'' 

His  monotone,  ended  abruptly,  resumed  after 
a  vast  interval. 

"There  were  ninety  thousand  years  of  stone 
age.  A  Denton  somewhere  in  all  those  years. 
Apostolic  succession.  The  grace  of  going 
through.  Let  me  see !  Ninety — nine  hundred 
— three  nines,  twenty-seven — three  thousand 
generations  of  men ! — men  more  or  less.  And 
each  fought,  and  was  bruised,  and  shamed,  and 
somehow  held  his  own — going  through  with  it 
— passing  it  on.  .  .  .  And  thousands  more 
to  come  perhaps — thousands ! 

"Passing  it  on.  I  wonder  if  they  will  thank 
us.'' 

His  voice  assumed  an  argumentative  note. 
"If  one  could  find  something  definite.  .  .  If 
one  could  say.  This  is  why — this  is  why  it  goes 
on. 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  287 


He  became  still,  and  Elizabeth's  eyes  slowly 
separated  him  from  the  darkness  until  at  last 
she  could  see  how  he  sat  with  his  head  resting 
on  his  hand.  A  sense  of  the  enormous  remote- 
ness of  their  minds  came  to  her ;  that  dim  sug- 
gestion of  another  being  seemed  to  her  a  figure 
of  their  mutual  understanding.  What  could 
he  be  thinking  now?  What  might  he  not  say 
next  ?  Another  age  seemed  to  elapse  before  he 
sighed  and  whispered:  ^'No.  I  don't  under- 
stand it.  No!''  Then  a  long  interval,  and  he 
repeated  this.  But  the^  second  time  it  had  the 
tone  almost  of  a  solution. 

She  became  aware  that  he  was  preparing  to 
lie  down.  She  marked  his  movements,  per- 
ceived with  astonishment  how  he  adjusted  his 
pillow  with  a  careful  regard  to  comfort.  He 
lay  down  with  a  sigh  of  contentment  almost. 
His  passion  had  passed.  He  lay  still,  and  pres- 
ently his  breathing  became  regular  and  deep. 

But  Elizabeth  remained  with  eyes  wide  open 
in  the  darkness,  until  the  clamour  of  a  bell  and 
the  sudden  brilliance  of  the  electric  light 
warned  them  that  the  Labour  Company  had 
need  of  them  for  yet  another  day. 

That  day  came  a  scuffle  with  the  albino 
Whitey  and  the  little  ferret-faced  man.  Blunt, 
the  swart  artist  in  scrapping,  having  first  let 


288        '    Time  and  Space 


Denton  grasp  the  bearing  of  his  lesson,  inter- 
vened, not  without  a  certain  quaUty  of  patron- 
age. "Drop  'is  'air,  Whitey,  and  let  the  man 
be,''  said  his  gross  voice  through  a  shower  of 
indignities.  ''Can't  you  see  'e  don't  know  'ow 
to  scrap?"  And  Denton,  lying  shamefully  in 
the  dust,  realised  that  he  must  accept  that 
course  of  instruction  after  all. 

He  made  his  apology  straight  and  clean.  He 
scrambled  up  and  walked  to  Blunt.  ''I  was  a 
fool,  and  you  are  right,"  he  said.  *'If  it  isn't 
too  late.    .    .  ." 

That  night,  after  the  second  spell,  Denton 
went  with  Blunt  to  certain  waste  and  slime- 
soaked  vaults  under  the  Port  of  London,  to 
learn  the  first  beginnings  of  the  high  art  of 
scrapping  as  it  had  been  perfected  in  the  great 
world  of  the  underways :  how  to  hit  or  kick  a 
man  so  as  to  hurt  him  excruciatingly  or  make 
him  violently  sick,  how  to  hit  or  kick  "vital," 
how  to  use  glass  in  one's  garments  as  a  club 
and  to  spread  red  ruin  with  various  domestic 
implements,  how  to  anticipate  and  demolish 
your  adversary's  intentions  in  other  directions; 
all  the  pleasant  devices,  in  fact,  that  had  grown 
up  among  the  disinherited  of  the  great  cities  of 
the  twentieth  and  twenty-first  centuries,  were 
spread  out  by  a  gifted  exponent  for  Denton's 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  289 

learning.  Blunt's  bashfulness  fell  from  him  as 
the  instruction  proceeded,  and  he  developed  a 
certain  expert  dignity,  a  quality  of  fatherly  con- 
sideration. He  treated  Denton  with  the  utmost 
consideration,  only  ''flicking  him  up  a  bit"  now 
and  then,  to  keep  the  interest  hot,  and  roaring 
with  laughter  at  a  happy  fluke  of  Denton's  that 
covered  his  mouth  with  blood. 

"Fm  always  keerless  of  my  mouth,''  said 
Blunt,  admitting  a  weakness.  ''Always.  It 
don't  seem  to  matter,  like,  just  getting  bashed 
in  the  mouth — not  if  your  chin's  all  right. 
Tastin'  blood  does  me  good.  Always.  But  I 
better  not  'it  you  again." 

Denton  went  home,  to  fall  asleep  exhausted 
and  wake  in  the  small  hours  with  aching  limbs 
and  all  his  bruises  tingling.  Was  it  worth 
while  that  he  should  go  on  living  ?  He  listened 
to  Elizabeth's  breathing,  and  remembering  that 
he  must  have  awaked  her  the  previous  night,  he 
lay  very  still.  He  was  sick  with  infinite  dis- 
gust at  the  new  conditions  of  his  life.  He  hated 
it  all,  hated  even  the  genial  savage  who  had 
protected  him  so  generously.  The  monstrous 
fraud  of  civilisation  glared  stark  before  his 
eyes;  he  saw  it  as  a  vast  lunatic  growth,  pro- 
ducing a  deepening  torrent  of  savagery  below, 
and  above  ever  more  flimsy  gentility  and  silly 

T 


290  Time  and  Space 


wastefulness.  He  could  see  no  redeeming  rea- 
son, no  touch  of  honour,  either  in  the  life  he 
had  led  or  in  this  life  to  which  he  had  fallen. 
Civilisationpresented itself  as  some  catastrophic 
product  as  little  concerned  with  men — save  as 
victims — as  a  cyclone  or  a  planetary  collision. 
He,  and  therefore  all  mankind,  seemed  living 
utterly  in  vain.  His  mind  sought  some  strange 
expedients  of  escape,  if  not  for  himself  then  at 
least  for  Elizabeth.  But  he  meant  them  for 
himself.  What  if  he  hunted  up  Mwres  and 
told  him  of  their  disaster  ?  It  came  to  him  as  an 
astonishing  thing  how  utterly  Mwres  and  Bin- 
don  had  passed  out  of  his  range.  Where  were 
they  ?  What  were  they  doing  ?  From  that  he 
passed  to  thoughts  of  utter  dishonour.  And 
finally,  not  arising  in  any  way  out  of  this  mental 
tumult,  but  ending  it  as  dawn  ends  the  night, 
came  the  clear  and  obvious  conclusion  of  the 
night  before :  the  conviction  that  he  had  to  go 
through  with  things;  that,  apart  from  any  re- 
moter view  and  quite  sufficient  for  all  his 
thought  and  energy,  he  had  to  stand  up  and 
fight  among  his  fellows  and  quit  himself  like 
a  man. 

The  second  night's  instruction  was  perhaps 
less  dreadful  than  the  first;  and  the  third  was 
even  endurable,  for  Blunt  dealt  out  some  praise 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  291 

The  fourth  day  Denton  chanced  upon  the  fact 
that  the  ferret- faced  man  was  a  coward.  There 
passed  a  fortnight  of  smouldering  days  and 
feverish  instruction  at  night ;  Blunt,  with  many 
blasphemies,  testified  that  never  had  he  met  so 
apt  a  pupil ;  and  all  night  long  Denton  dreamt 
of  kicks  and  counters  and  gouges  and  cunning 
tricks.  For  all  that  time  no  further  outrages 
were  attempted,  for  fear  of  Blunt;  and  then 
came  the  second  crisis.  Blunt  did  not  come  one 
day — afterwards  he  admitted  his  deliberate  in- 
tention— and  through  the  tedious  morning 
Whitey  awaited  the  interval  between  the  spells 
with  an  ostentatious  impatience.  He  knew 
nothing  of  the  scrapping  lessons,  and  he  spent 
the  time  in  telling  Denton  and  the  vault  gen- 
erally of  certain  disagreeable  proceedings  he 
had  in  mind. 

Whitey  was  not  popular,  and  the  vault  dis- 
gorged to  see  him  haze  the  new  man  with  only 
a  languid  interest.  But  matters  changed  when 
Whitey's  attempt  to  open  the  proceedings  by 
kicking  Denton  in  the  face  was  met  by  an  ex- 
cellently executed  duck,  catch  and  throw,  that 
completed  the  flight  of  Whitey's  foot  in  its  orbit 
and  brought  Whitey's  head  into  the  ash-heap 
that  had  once  received  Denton's.  Whitey  arose 
a  shade  whiter,  and  now  blasphemously  bent 


292  Time  and  Space 


upon  vital  injuries.  There  were  indecisive 
passages,  foiled  enterprises  that  deepened 
Whitey's  evidently  growing  perplexity;  and 
then  things  developed  into  a  grouping  of  Den- 
ton uppermost  with  Whitey's  throat  in  his 
hand,  his  knee  on  Whitey's  chest,  and  a  tear- 
ful Whitey  with  a  black  face,  protruding  tongue 
and  broken  finger  endeavouring  to  explain  the 
misunderstanding  by  means  of  hoarse  sounds. 
Moreover,  it  was  evident  that  among  the  by- 
standers there  had  never  been  a  more  popular 
person  than  Denton. 

Denton,  with  proper  precaution,  released  his 
antagonist  and  stood  up.  His  blood  seemed 
changed  to  some  sort  of  fluid  fire,  his  limbs  felt 
light  and  supernaturally  strong.  The  idea  that 
he  was  a  martyr  in  the  civilisation  machine  had 
vanished  from  his  mind.  He  was  a  man  in  a 
world  of  men.  . 

The  little  ferret-faced  man  was  the  first  in 
the  competition  to  pat  him  on  the  back.  The 
lender  of  oil  cans  was  a  radiant  sun  of  genial 
congratulation.  .  .  i.  It  seemed  incredible 
to  Denton  that  he  had  ever  thought  of  despair. 

Denton  was  convinced  that  not  only  had  he 
to  go  through  with  things,  but  that  he  could. 
He  sat  on  the  canvas  pallet  expounding  this 
new  aspect  to  Elizabeth,    One  side  of  his  face 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  293 

was  bruised.  She  had  not  recently  fought,  she 
had  not  been  patted  on  the  back,  there  were  no 
hot  bruises  upon  her  face,  only  a  pallor  and  a 
new  line  or  so  about  the  mouth.  She  was  tak- 
ing the  woman's  share.  She  looked  steadfastly 
at  Denton  in  his  new  mood  of  prophecy.  feel 
that  there  is  something,"  he  was  saying,  ''some- 
thing that  goes  on,  a  Being  of  Life  in  which  we 
live  and  move  and  have  our  being,  something 
that  began  fifty — a  hundred  million  years  ago, 
perhaps,  that  goes  on — on:  growing,  spread- 
ing, to  things  beyond  us — things  that  will 
justify  us  all.  .  .  .  That  will  explain  and 
justify  my  fighting — these  bruises,  and  all  the 
pain  of  it.  It's  the  chisel — yes,  the  chisel  of  the 
Maker.  If  only  I  could  make  you  feel  as  I 
feel,  if  I  could  make  you!  You  will,  dear,  I 
know  you  will." 

"No,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice.  ''No,  I  shall 
not." 

"So  I  might  have  thought — " 

She  shook  her  head.  "No,"  she  said,  "I  have 
thought  as  well.  What^you  say — doesn't  con- 
vince me." 

She  looked  at  his  face  resolutely.  "I  hate  it," 
she  said,  and  caught  at  her  breath.  "You  do 
not  understand,  you  do  not  think.  There  was  a 
time  when  you  said  things  and  I  believed  them. 


294  Time  and  Space 


I  am  growing  wiser.  You  are  a  man,  you  can 
fight,  force  your  way.  You  do  not  mind  bruises. 
You  can  be  coarse  and  ugly,  and  still  a  man. 
Yes — it  makes  you.  It  makes  you.  You  are 
right.  Only  a  woman  is  not  like  that.  We  are 
different.  We  have  let  ourselves  get  civilised 
too  soon.   This  underworld  is  not  for  us." 

She  paused  and  began  again. 

"I  hate  it!  I  hate  this  horrible  canvas!  I 
hate  it  more  than — more  than  the  worst  that 
can  happen.  It  hurts  my  fingers  to  touch  it.  It 
is  horrible  to  the  skin.  And  the  women  I  work 
with  day  after  day !  I  lie  awake  at  nights  and 
think  how  I  may  be  growing  like  them.  . 

She  stopped.  ^'I  am  growing  like  them," 
she  cried  passionately. 

Denton  stared  at  her  distress.  "But — "  he 
said  and  stopped. 

"You  don't  understand.  What  have  I? 
What  have  I  to  save  me?  You  can  fight. 
Fighting  is  man's  work.  But  women — women 
are  different.  ...  I  have  thought  it  all 
out,  I  have  done  nothing  but  think  night  and 
day.  Look  at  the  colour  of  my  face !  I  cannot 
go  on.  I  cannot  endure  this  life.  .  .  I  can- 
not endure  it." 

She  stopped.    She  hesitated. 

"You  do  not  know  all,"  she  said  abruptly, 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  295 

and  for  an  instant  her  lips  had  a  bitter  smile. 
"I  have  been  asked  to  leave  you." 
"Leave  me!" 

She  made  no  answer  save  an  affirmative 
movement  of  the  head. 

Denton  stood  up  sharply.  They  stared  at 
one  another  through  a  long  silence. 

Suddenly  she  turned  herself  about,  and  flung 
face  downward  upon  their  canvas  bed.  She  did 
not  sob,  she  made  no  sound.  She  lay  still  upon 
her  face.  After  a  vast,  distressful  void  her 
shoulders  heaved  and  she  began  to  weep  si- 
lently. 

"Elizabeth!"  he  whispered— "Elizabeth !" 

'Very  softly  he  sat  down  beside  her,  bent 
down,  put  his  arm  across  her  in  a  doubtful 
caress,  seeking  vainly  for  some  clue  to  this  in- 
tolerable situation. 

"Elizabeth,"  he  whispered  in  her  ear. 

She  thrust  him  from  her  with  her  hand.  "I 
cannot  bear  a  child  to  be  a  slave!"  and  broke 
out  into  loud  and  bitter  weeping. 

Denton's  face  changed — ^became  blank  dis- 
may. Presently  he  slipped  from  the  bed  and 
stood  on  his  feet.  All  the  complacency  had 
vanished  from  his  face,  had  given  place  to  im- 
potent rage.  He  began  to  rave  and  curse  at 
the  intolerable  forces  which  pressed  upon  him, 


296  Time  and  Space 


at  all  the  accidents  and  hot  desires  and  heed- 
lessness that  mock  the  life  of  man.  His  little 
voice  rose  in  that  little  room,  and  he  shook  his 
fist,  this  animalcule  of  the  earth,  at  all  that  en- 
vironed him  about,  at  the  millions  about  him, 
at  his  past  and  future  and  all  the  insensate  vast- 
ness  of  the  overwhelming  city. 

V — BINDON  INTERVENES 

In  Bindon's  younger  days  he  had  dabbled  in 
speculation  and  made  three  brilliant  flukes.  For 
the  rest  of  his  life  he  had  the  wisdom  to  let 
gambling  alone,  and  the  conceit  to  believe  him- 
self a  very  clever  man.  A  certain  desire  for  in- 
fluence and  reputation  interested  him  in  the 
business  intrigues  of  the  giant  city  in  which  his 
flukes  were  made.  He  became  at  last  one  of 
the  most  influential  shareholders  in  the  com- 
pany that  owned  the  London  flying-stages  to 
which  the  aeroplanes  came  from  all  parts  of  the 
world.  This  much  for  his  public  activities.  In 
his  private  life  he  was  a  man  of  pleasure.  And 
this  is  the  story  of  his  heart. 

But  before  proceeding  to  such  depths,  one 
must  devote  a  little  time  to  the  exterior  of  this 
person.  Its  physical  basis  was  slender,  and 
short,  and  dark ;  and  the  face,  which  was  fine- 
featured  and  assisted  by  pigments,  varied  from 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  297 

an  insecure  self-complacency  to  an  intelligent 
uneasiness.  His  face  and  head  had  been  depi- 
lated, according  to  the  cleanly  and  hygienic 
fashion  of  the  time,  so  that  the  colour  and  con- 
tour of  his  hair  varied  with  his  costume.  This 
he  was  constantly  changing. 

At  times  he  would  distend  himself  with  pneu- 
matic vestments  in  the  rococo  vein.  From 
among  the  billowy  developments  of  this  style, 
and  beneath  a  translucent  and  illuminated  head- 
dress, his  eye  watched  jealously  for  the  respect 
of  the  less  fashionable  world.  At  other  times 
he  emphasised  his  elegant  slenderness  in  close- 
fitting  garments  of  black  satin.  For  eflFects  of 
dignity  he  would  assume  broad  pneumatic 
shoulders,  from  which  hung  a  robe  of  carefully 
arranged  folds  of  China  silk,  and  a  classical 
Bindon  in  pink  tights  was  also  a  transient 
phenomenon  in  the  eternal  pageant  of  Destiny. 
In  the  days  when  he  hoped  to  marry  Elizabeth, 
he  sought  to  impress  and  charm  her,  and  at  the 
same  time  to  take  of¥  something  of  his  burthen 
of  forty  years,  by  wearing  the  last  fancy  of  the 
.contemporary  buck,  a  costume  of  elastic  ma- 
terial with  distensible  warts  and  horns,  chang- 
ing in  colour  as  he  walked,  by  an  ingenious  ar- 
rangement of  versatile  chromatophores.  And 
no  doubt,  if  Elizabeth's  affection  had  not  been 


298  Time  and  Space 


already  engaged  by  the  worthless  Denton,  and 
if  her  tastes  had  not  had  that  odd  bias  for  old- 
fashioned  ways,  this  extremely  chic  conception 
would  have  ravished  her.  Bindon  had  consulted 
Elizabeth's  father  before  presenting  himself  in 
this  garb — he  was  one  of  those  men  who  al- 
ways invite  criticism  of  their  costume — and 
Mwres  had  pronounced  him  all  that  the  heart  of 
woman  could  desire.  But  the  affair  of  the 
hypnotist  proved  that  his  knowledge  of  the 
heart  of  woman  was  incomplete. 

Bindon's  idea  of  marrying  had  been  formed 
some  little  time  before  Mwres  threw  Elizabeth's 
budding  womanhood  in  his  way.  It  was  one  of 
Bindon's  most  cherished  secrets  that  he  had  a 
considerable  capacity  for  a  pure  and  simple  life 
of  a  grossly  sentimental  type.  The  thought  im- 
parted a  sort  of  pathetic  seriousness  to  the  of- 
fensive and  quite  inconsequent  and  unmeaning 
excesses,  which  he  was  pleased  to  regard  as 
dashing  wickedness,  and  which  a  number  of 
good  people  also  were  so  unwise  as  to  treat  in 
that  desirable  manner.  As  a  consequence  of 
these  excesses,  and  perhaps  by  reason  also  of  an 
inherited  tendency  to  early  decay,  his  liver  be- 
came seriously  affected,  and  he  suffered  increas- 
ing inconvenience  when  travelling  by  aero- 
plane.  It  was  during  his  convalescence  from  a 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  299 

protracted  bilious  attack  that  it  occurred  to  him 
that  in  spite  of  all  the  terrible  fascinations  of 
Vice,  if  he  found  a  beautiful,  gentle,  good 
young  woman  of  a  not  too  violently  intellectual 
type  to  devote  her  life  to  him,  he  might  yet  be 
saved  to  Goodness,  and  even  rear  a  spirited 
family  in  his  likeness  to  solace  his  declining 
years.  But  like  so  many  experienced  men  of 
the  world,  he  doubted  if  there  were  any  good 
women.  Of  such  as  he  had  heard  tell  he  was 
outwardly  sceptical  and  privately  much  afraid. 

When  the  aspiring  Mwres  effected  his  intro- 
duction to  Elizabeth,  it  seemed  to  him  that  his 
good  fortune  was  complete.  He, fell  in  love 
with  her  at  once.  Of  course,  he  had  always 
been  falling  in  love  since  he  was  sixteen,  in  ac- 
cordance with  the  extremely  varied  recipes  to 
be  found  in  the  accumulated  literature  of  many 
centuries.  But  this  was  different.  This  was 
real  love.  It  seemed  to  him  to  call  forth  all  the 
lurking  goodness  in  his  nature.  He  felt  that 
for  her  sake  he  could  give  up  a  way  of  life  that 
had  already  produced  the  gravest  lesions  on  his 
liver  and  nervous  system.  His  imagination  pre- 
sented him  with  idyllic  pictures  of  the  life  of 
the  reformed  rake.  He  would  never  be  senti- 
mental with  her,  or  silly;  but  always  a  little 
cynical  and  bitter,  as  became  the  past.   Yet  he 


300  Time  and  Space 


was  sure  she  would  have  an  intuition  of  his  real 
greatness  and  goodness.  And  in  due  course  he 
would  confess  things  to  her,  pour  his  version  of 
what  he  regarded  as  his  wickedness — showing 
what  a  complex  of  Goethe,  and  Benvenuto  Cel- 
lini, and  Shelley,  and  all  those  other  chaps  he 
really  was — into  her  shocked,  very  beautiful, 
and  no  doubt  sympathetic  ear.  And  prepara- 
tory to  these  things  he  wooed  her  with  infinite 
subtlety  and  respect.  And  the  reserve  with 
which  Elizabeth  treated  him  seemed  nothing 
more  nor  less  than  an  exquisite  modesty 
touched  and  enhanced  by  an  equally  exquisite 
lack  of  ideas. 

Bindon  knew  nothing  of  her  wandering  af- 
fections, nor  of  the  attempt  made  by  Mwres  to 
utilise  hypnotism  as  a  corrective  to  this  digres- 
sion of  her  heart;  he  conceived  he  was  on  the 
best  of  terms  with  Elizabeth,  and  had  made  her 
quite  successfully  various  significant  presents 
of  jewellery  and  the  more  virtuous  cosmetics, 
when  her  elopement  with  Denton  threw  the 
world  out  of  gear  for  him.  His  first  aspect  of 
the  matter  was  rage  begotten  of  wounded  van- 
ity, and  as  Mwres  was  the  most  convenient  per- 
son, he  vented  the  first  brunt  of  it  upon  him. 

He  went  immediately  and  insulted  the  deso- 
late father  grossly,  and  then  spent  an  active  and 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  301 

determined  day  going  to  and  fro  about  the  city 
and  interviewing  people  in  a  consistent  and 
partly-successful  attempt  to  ruin  that  matrimo- 
nial speculator.  The  effectual  nature  of  these 
activities  gave  him  a  temporary  exhilaration, 
and  he  went  to  the  dining-place  he  had  fre- 
quented in  his  wicked  days  in  a  devil-may-care 
frame  of  mind,  and  dined  altogether  too  amply 
and  cheerfully  with  two  other  golden  youths  in 
the  early  forties.  He  threw  up  the  game;  no 
woman  was  worth  being  good  for,  and  he  as- 
tonished even  himself  by  the  strain  of  witty 
cynicism  he  developed.  One  of  the  other  des- 
perate blades,  warmed  with  wine,  made  a  face- 
tious allusion  to  his  disappointment,  but  at  the 
time  this  did  not  seem  unpleasant. 

The  next  morning  found  his  liver  and  tem- 
per inflamed.  He  kicked  his  phonographic- 
news  machine  to  pieces,  dismissed  his  valet,  and 
resolved  that  he  would  perpetrate  a  terrible  re- 
venge upon  Elizabeth.  Or  Denton.  Or  some- 
body. But  anyhow,  it  was  to  be  a  terrible  re- 
venge; and  the  friend  who  had  made  fun  at 
him  should  no  longer  see  him  in  the  light  of  a 
foolish  girl's  victim.  He  knew  something  of 
the  little  property  that  was  due  to  her,  and  that 
this  would  be  the  only  support  of  the  young 
couple  until  Mwres  should  relent.    If  Mwres 


302  Time  and  Space 


did  not  relent,  and  if  unpropitious  things  should 
happen  to  the  affair  in  which  Elizabeth's  expec- 
tations lay,  they  would  come  upon  evil  times 
and  be  sufficiently  amenable  to  temptation  of  a 
sinister  sort.  Bindon's  imagination,  abandon- 
ing its  beautiful  idealism  altogether,  expanded 
the  idea  of  temptation  of  a  sinister  sort.  He 
figured  himself  as  the  implacable,  the  intricate 
and  powerful  man  of  wealth  pursuing  this 
maiden  w^ho  had  scorned  him.  And  suddenly 
her  image  came  upon  his  mind  vivid  and  domi- 
nant, and  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  Bindon 
realised  something  of  the  real  power  of  pas- 
sion. 

His  imagination  stood  aside  like  a  respectful 
footman  who  has  done  his  work  in  ushering  in 
the  emotion. 

"My  God!"  cried  Bindon:  "I  will  have  her! 
If  I  have  to  kill  myself  to  get  her !  And  that 
other  fellow — !'' 

After  an  interview  with  his  medical  man  and 
a  penance  for  his  overnight  excesses  in  the  form 
of  bitter  drugs,  a  mitigated  but  absolutely  reso- 
lute Bindon  sought  out  Mw^res.  Mwres  he 
found  properly  smashed,  and  impoverished  and 
humble,  in  a  mood  of  frantic  self-preservation, 
ready  to  sell  himself  body  and  soul,  much  more 
any  interest  in  a  disobedient  daughter,  to  re- 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  303 

cover  his  lost  position  in  the  world.  In  the 
reasonable  discussion  that  followed,  it  was 
agreed  that  these  misguided  young  people 
should  be  left  to  sink  into  distress,  or  possibly 
even  assisted  towards  that  improving  discipline 
by  Bindon's  financial  influence. 

''And  then     said  Mwres. 

"They  will  come  to  the  Labour  Company,'' 
said  Bindon.  'They  will  wear  the  blue  can- 
vas/' 

"And  then?" 

"She  will  divorce  him,"  he  said,  and  sat  for 
a  moment  intent  upon  that  prospect.  For  in 
those  days  the  austere  limitations  of  divorce  of 
Victorian  times  were  extraordinarily  relaxed, 
and  a  couple  might  separate  on  a  hundred  dif- 
ferent scores. 

Then  suddenly  Bindon  astonished  himself 
and  Mwres  by  jumping  to  his  feet.  "She  shall 
divorce  him!"  he  cried.  "I  will  have  it  so — I 
will  work  it  so.  By  God!  it  shall  be  so.  He 
shall  be  disgraced,  so  that  she  must.  He  shall 
be  smashed  and  pulverised." 

The  idea  of  smashing  and  pulverising  in- 
flamed him  further.  He  began  a  Jovian  pac- 
ing up  and  down  the  little  office.  "I  will  have 
her,"  he  cried.  "I  will  have  her !  Heaven  and 
Hell  shall  not  save  her  from  me !"  His  passion 


Time  and  Space 


evaporated  in  its  expression,  and  left  him  at  the 
end  simply  histrionic.  He  struck  an  attitude 
and  ignored  with  heroic  determination  a  sharp 
twinge  of  pain  about  the  diaphragm.  And 
Mwres  sat  with  his  pneumatic  cap  deflated  and 
himself  very  visibly  impressed. 

And  so,  with  a  fair  persistency,  Bindon  sat 
himself  to  the  work  of  being  Elizabeth's  malig- 
nant providence,  using  with  ingenious  dexterity 
every  particle  of  advantage  wealth  in  those 
days  gave  a  man  over  his  fellow-creatures.  A 
resort  to  the  consolations  of  religion  hindered 
these  operations  not  at  all.  He  would  go  and 
talk  with  an  interesting,  experienced  and  sym- 
pathetic Father  of  the  Huysmanite  sect  of  the 
Isis  cult,  about  all  the  irrational  little  proceed- 
ings he  was  pleased  to  regard  as  his  heaven 
dismaying  wickedness,  and  the  interesting,  ex- 
perienced and  sympathetic  Father  representing 
Heaven  dismayed,  would  with  a  pleasing  affec- 
tation of  horror,  suggest  simple  and  easy  pen- 
ances, and  recommend  a  monastic  foundation 
that  was  airy,  cool,  hygienic,  and  not  vulgar- 
ised, for  viscerally  disordered  penitent  sinners 
of  the  refined  and  wealthy  type.  And  after 
these  excursions,  Bindon  would  come  back  to 
London  quite  active  and  passionate  again.  He 
would   machinate   with   really  considerable 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  305 

energy,  and  repair  to  a  certain  gallery  high 
above  the  street  of  moving  ways,  from  which 
he  could  view  the  entrance  to  the  barrack  of 
the  Labour  Company  in  the  ward  which  shel- 
tered Denton  and  Elizabeth.  And  at  last  one 
day  he  saw  Elizabeth  go  in,  and  thereby  his 
passion  was  renewed. 

So  in  the  fullness  of  time  the  complicated 
devices  of  Bindon  ripened,  and  he  could  go  to 
Mwres  and  tell  him  that  the  young  people  were 
near  despair. 

''It's  time  for  you,"  he  said,  ''to  let  your  par- 
ental affections  have  play.  She's  been  in  blue 
canvas  some  months,  and  they've  been  cooped 
together  in  one  of  those  Labour  dens,  and  the 
little  girl  is  dead.  She  knows  now  what  his 
manhood  is  worth  to  her,  by  way  of  protec- 
tion, poor  girl.  She'll  see  things  now  in  a 
clearer  light.  You  go  to  her — I  don't  want  to 
appear  in  this  affair  yet — and  point  out  to  her 
how  necessary  it  is  that  she  should  get  a  divorce 
from  him.    .  . 

''She's  obstinate,"  said  Mwres  doubtfully. 

"Spirit!"  said  Bindon.  She's  a  wonderful 
girl — a  wonderful  girl !" 

"She'll  refuse." 

"Of  course  she  will.    But  leave  it  open  to 

her.  Leave  it  open  to  her.   And  some  day — in 

u 


Time  and  Space 


that  stuffy  den,  in  that  irksome,  toilsome  life 
they  can't  help  it — they'll  have  a  quarrel.  And 
then—" 

Mwres  meditated  over  the  matter,  and  did  as 
he  was  told. 

Then  Bindon,  as  he  had  arranged  with  his 
spiritual  adviser,  went  into  retreat.  The  re- 
treat of  the  Huysmanite  sect  was  a  beautiful 
place,  with  the  sweetest  air  in  London,  lit  by 
natural  sunlight,  and  with  restful  quadrangles 
of  real  grass  open  to  the  sky,  where  at  the  same 
time  the  penitent  man  of  pleasure  might  enjoy 
all  the  pleasures  of  loafing  and  all  the  satisfac- 
tion of  distinguished  austerity.  And,  save  for 
participation  in  the  simple  and  wholesome 
dietary  of  the  place  and  in  certain  magnificent 
chants,  Bindon  spent  all  his  time  in  meditation 
upon  the  theme  of  Elizabeth,  and  the  extreme 
purification  his  soul  had  undergone  since  he 
first  saw  her,  and  whether  he  would  be  able  to 
get  a  dispensation  to  marry  her  from  the  ex- 
perienced and  sympathetic  Father  in  spite  of 
the  approaching  ''sin"  of  her  divorce;  and  then 
.  .  .  .  Bindon  would  lean  against  a  pillar 
of  the  quadrangle  and  lapse  into  reveries  on  the 
superiority  of  virtuous  love  to  any  other  form 
of  indulgence.  A  curious  feeling  in  his  back 
and  chest  that  was  trying  to  attract  his  atten- 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  307 


tion,  a  disposition  to  be  hot  or  shiver,  a  general 
sense  of  ill-health  and  cutaneous  discomfort 
he  did  his  best  to  ignore.  All  that  of  course  be- 
longed to  the  old  life  that  he  was  shaking  off. 

When  he  came  out  of  retreat  he  went  at  once 
to  Mwres  to  ask  for  news  of  Elizabeth.  Mwres 
was  clearly  under  the  impression  that  he  was 
an  exemplary  father,  profoundly  touched  about 
the  heart  by  his  child's  unhappiness.  ^'She  was 
pale,''  he  said,  greatly  moved;  ^^She  was  pale. 
When  I  asked  her  to  come  away  and  leave  him 
— and  be  happy — she  put  her  head  down  upon 
the  table" — Mwres  sniffed — *'and  cried." 

His  agitation  was  so  great  that  he  could  say 
no  more. 

"Ah!"  said  Bindon,  respecting  this  manly 
grief.  ''Oh !"  said  Bindon  quite  suddenly,  with 
his  hand  to  his  side. 

Mwres  looked  up  sharply  out  of  the  pit  of  his 
sorrows,  startled.  ''What's  the  matter?"  he 
asked,  visibly  concerned. 

"A  most  violent  pain.  Excuse  me!  You 
were  telling  me  about  Elizabeth." 

And  Mwres,  after  a  decent  solicitude  for  Bin- 
don's  pain,  proceeded  with  his  report.  It  was 
even  unexpectedly  hopeful.  Elizabeth,  in  her 
first  emotion  at  discovering  that  her  father  had 


308  Time  and  Space 


not  absolutely  deserted  her,  had  been  frank 
with  him  about  her  sorrows  and  disgusts. 

"Yes,"  said  Bindon,  magnificently,  "I  shall 
have  her  yet."  And  then  that  novel  pain 
twitched  him  for  the  second  time. 

For  these  lower  pains  the  priest  was  com- 
paratively ineffectual,  inclining  rather  to  regard 
the  body  and  them  as  mental  illusions  amenable 
to  contemplation;  so  Bindon  took  it  to  a  man 
of  a  class  he  loathed,  a  medical  man  of  extra- 
ordinary repute  and  incivility.  ''We  must  go 
all  over  you,"  said  the  medical  man,  and  did  so 
with  the  most  disgusting  frankness.  ''Did  you 
ever  bring  any  children  into  the  world?"  asked 
this  gross  materialist  among  other  impertinent 
questions. 

"Not  that  I  know  of,"  said  Bindon,  too 
amazed  to  stand  upon  his  dignity. 

"Ah!"  said  the  medical  man,  and  proceeded 
with  his  punching  and  sounding.  Medical 
science  in  those  days  was  just  reaching  the  be- 
ginnings of  precision.  "You'd  better  go  right 
away,"  said  the  medical  man,  "and  make  the 
Euthanasia.   The  sooner  the  better." 

Bindon  gasped.  He  had  been  trying  not  to 
understand  the  technical  explanations  and  an- 
ticipations in  which  the  medical  man  had  in- 
dulged. 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  309 


"I  say !"  he  said.  ,  ''But  do  you  mean  to  say 
.    .    .    .    Your  science.    .  . 

"Nothing,"  said  the  medical  man.  "A  few 
opiates.  The  thing  is  your  own  doing,  you 
know,  to  a  certain  extent." 

"I  was  sorely  tempted  in  my  youth." 

'Tt's  not  that  so  much.  But  you  come  of  a 
bad  stock.  Even  if  you'd  have  taken  precau- 
tions you'd  have  had  bad  times  to  wind  up  with. 
The  mistake  was  getting  born.  The  indiscre- 
tions of  the  parents.  And  you've  shirked  ex- 
ercise, and  so  forth." 

"I  had  no  one  to  advise  me." 

''Medical  men  are  always  willing." 

"I  was  a  spirited  young  fellow." 

"We  won't  argue;  the  mischief's  done  now. 
You've  lived.  We  can't  start  you  again.  You 
ought  never  to  have  started  at  all.  Frankly — 
the  Euthanasia !" 

Bindon  hated  him  in  silence  for  a  space. 
Every  word  of  this  brutal  expert  jarred  upon 
his  refinements.  He  was  so  gross,  so  impermea- 
ble to  all  the  subtler  issues  of  being.  But  it  is  no 
good  picking  a  quarrel  with  a  doctor.  "My  re- 
ligious beliefs,"  he  said,  "I  don't  approve  of 
suicide." 

^'You've  been  doing  it  all  your  life." 


3IO  Time  and  Space 


''Well,  anyhow,  I've  come  to  take  a  serious 
view  of  life  now/' 

"You're  bound  to,  if  you  go  on  living. 
You'll  hurt.  But  for  practical  purposes  it's 
late.  However,  if  you  mean  to  do  that — per- 
haps I'd  better  mix  you  a  little  something. 
You'll  hurt  a  great  deal.  These  little  twinges 
•    •  • 

"Twinges!" 

"Mere  preliminary  notices." 

"How  long  can  I  go  on?  I  mean,  before  I 
hurt — really." 

"You'll  get  it  hot  soon.  Perhaps  three  days." 

Bindon  tried  to  argue  for  an  extension  of 
time,  and  in  the  midst  of  his  pleading  gasped, 
put  his  hand  to  his  side.  Suddenly  the  extra- 
ordinary pathos  of  his  life  came  to  him  clear 
and  vivid.  "It's  hard,"  he  said.  "It's  infernally 
hard !  I've  been  no  man's  enemy  but  my  own. 
I've  always  treated  everybody  quite  fairly." 

The  medical  man  stared  at  him  without  any 
sympathy  for  some  seconds.  He  was  reflecting 
how  excellent  it  was  that  there  were  no  more 
Bindons  to  carry  on  that  line  of  pathos.  He 
felt  quite  optimistic.  Then  he  turned  to  his 
telephone  and  ordered  up  a  prescription  from 
the  Central  Pharmacy. 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  311 


He  was  interrupted  by  a  voice  behind  him. 
'^By  God!"  cried  Bindon;  'Til  have  her  yet." 

The  physician  stared  over  his  shoulder  at 
Bindon' s  expression,  and  then  altered  the  pre- 
scription. 

So  soon  as  this  painful  interview  was  over, 
Eindon  gave  way  to  rage.  He  settled  that  the 
medical  man  was  not  only  an  unsympathetic 
brute  and  wanting  in  the  first  beginnings  of  a 
gentleman,  but  also  highly  incompetent ;  and  he 
went  ofif  to  four  other  practitioners  in  succes- 
sion, with  a  view  to  the  establishment  of  this 
intuition.  But  to  guard  against  surprises  he 
kept  that  little  prescription  in  his  pocket.  With 
each  he  began  by  expressing  his  grave  doubts 
of  the  first  doctor's  intelligence,  honesty  and 
professional  knowledge,  and  then  stated  his 
symptoms,  suppressing  only  a  few  more  ma- 
terial facts  in  each  case.  These  were  always 
subsequently  elicited  by  the  doctor.  In  spite  of 
the  welcome  depreciation  of  another  practi- 
tioner, none  of  these  eminent  specialists  would 
give  Bindon  any  hope  of  eluding  the  anguish 
and  helplessness  that  loomed  now  close  upon 
him.  To  the  last  of  them  he  unburthened  his 
mind  of  an  accumulated  disgust  with  medical 
science.  ^^After  centuries  and  centuries/'  he 
exclaimed  hotly ;  "and  you  can  do  nothing — ex- 


j  1 2  Time  and  Space 

cept  admit  your  helplessness.  I  say,  ^save  me' 
— and  what  do  you  do 

''No  doubt  it's  hard  on  you,"  said  the  doctor. 
*'But  you  should  have  taken  precautions."  . 

''How  was  I  to  know?" 

"It  wasn't  our  place  to  run  after  you,"  said 
the  medical  man,  picking  a  thread  of  cotton 
from  his  purple  sleeve.  "Why  should  we  save 
you  in  particular  ?  You  see — from  one  point  of 
view — ^people  with  imaginations  and  passions 
like  yours  have  to  go — they  have  to  go." 

"Go?" 

"Die  out.    It's  an  eddy." 

He  was  a  young  man  with  a  serene  face.  He 
smiled  at  Bindon.  "We  get  on  with  research, 
you  know;  we  give  advice  when  people  have 
the  sense  to  ask  for  it.  And  we  bide  our  time." 

"Bide  your  time?" 

"We  hardly  know  enough  yet  to  take  over 
the  management,  you  know." 
"The  management?" 

"You  needn't  be  anxious.  Science  is  young 
yet.  It's  got  to  keep  on  growing  for  a  few 
generations.  We  know  enough  now  to  know 
we  don't  know  enough  yet.  .  .  .  But  the 
time  is  coming,  all  the  same.  You  won't  see 
the  time.  But,  between  ourselves,  you  rich  men 
and  party  bosses,  with  your  natural  play  of  the 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  313 

passions  and  patriotism  and  religion  and  so 
forth,  have  mad^e  rather  a  mess  of  things; 
haven't  you  ?  These  Underways !  And  all  that 
sort  of  thing.  Some  of  us  have  a  sort  of  fancy 
that  in  time  we  may  know  enough  to  take  over 
a  little  more  than  the  ventilation  and  drains. 
Knowledge  keeps  on  piling  up,  you  know.  It 
keeps  on  growing.  And  there's  not  the  slight- 
est hurry  for  a  generation  or  so.  Some  day — 
some  day,  men  will  live  in  a  different  way."  He 
looked  at  Bindon  and  meditated.  "There'll  be 
a  lot  of  dying  out  before  that  day  can  come." 

Bindon  attempted  to' point  out  to  this  young 
man  how  silly  and  irrelevant  such  talk  w?s  to  a 
sick  man  like  himself,  how  impertinent  and  un- 
civil it  was  to  him,  an  older  man  occupying  a 
position  in  the  official  world  of  extraordinary 
power  and  influence.  He  insisted  that  a  doctor 
was  paid  to  cure  people — he  laid  great  stress  on 
''paid'' — and  had  no  business  to  glance  even  for 
a  moment  at  ''those  other  questions."  ''But 
we  do,"  said  the  young  man,  insisting  upon 
facts,  and  Bindon  lost  his  temper. 

His  indignation  carried  him  home.  That 
these  incompetent  impostors,  who  were  unable 
to  save  the  life  of  a  really  influential  man  like 
himself,  should  dream  of  some  day  robbing  the 
legitimate  property  owners  of  social  control,  of 


314  Time  and  Space 


inflicting  one  knew  not  what  tyranny  upon  the 
world.  Curse  science!  He  fumed  over  the 
intolerable  prospect  for  some  time,  and  then  the 
pain  returned,  and  he  recalled  the  made-up  pre- 
scription of  the  first  doctor,  still  happily  in  his 
pocket.  He  took  a  dose  forthwith. 

It  calmed  and  soothed  him  greatly,  and  he 
could  sit  down  in  his  most  comfortable  chair 
beside  his  library  (of  phonographic  records), 
and  think  over  the  altered  aspect  of  affairs.  His 
indignation  passed,  his  anger  and  his  passion 
crumbled  under  the  subtle  attack  of  that  pre- 
scription, pathos  became  his  sole  ruler.  He 
stared  about  him,  at  his  magnificent  and  vo- 
luptuously appointed  apartment,  at  his  statuary 
and  discreetly  veiled  pictures,  and  all  the  evi- 
dences of  a  cultivated  and  elegant  wickedness; 
he  touched  a  stud  and  the  sad  pipings  of  Tris- 
tan's shepherd  filled  the  air.  His  eye  wan- 
dered from  one  object  to  another.  They 
were  costly  and  gross  and  florid — but  they  were 
his.  They  presented  in  concrete  form  his  ideals, 
his  conceptions  of  beauty  and  desire,  his  idea  of 
all  that  is  precious  in  life.  And  now — he  must 
leave  it  all  like  a  common  man.  He  was,  he 
felt,  a  slender  and  delicate  flame,  burning  out. 
So  must  all  life  flame  up  and  pass,  he  thought. 
His  eyes  filled  with  tears. 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  3 1 5 

Then  it  came  into  his  head  that  he  was 
alone.  Nobody  cared  for  him,  nobody  needed 
him !  at  any  moment  he  might  begin  to  hurt  viv- 
idly. He  might  even  howl.  Nobody  would 
mind.  According  to  all  the  doctors  he  would 
have  excellent  reason  for  howling  in  a  day  or 
so.  It  recalled  what  his  spiritual  adviser  had 
said  of  the  decline  of  faith  and  fidelity,  the  de- 
generation of  the  age.  He  beheld  himself  as  a 
pathetic  proof  of  this ;  he,  the  subtle,  able,  im- 
portant, voluptuous,  cynical,  complex  Bindon, 
possibly  howling,  and  not  one  faithful  simple 
creature  in  all  the  world  to  howl  in  sympathy. 
Not  one  faithful  simple  soul  was  there — no 
shepherd  to  pipe  to  him !  Had  all  such  faithful 
simple  creatures  vanished  from  this  harsh  and 
urgent  earth  ?  He  wondered  whether  the  horrid 
vulgar  crowd  that  perpetually  went  about  the 
city  could  possibly  know  what  he  thought  of 
them.  If  they  did  he  felt  sure  some  would  try 
to  earn  a  better  opinion.  Surely  the  world  went 
from  bad  to  worse.  It  was  becoming  impossible 
for  Bindons.  Perhaps  some  day  .  .  .  He 
was  quite  sure  that  the  one  thing  he  had  needed 
in  life  was  sympathy.  For  a  time  he  regretted 
that  he  left  no  sonnets — no  enigmatical  pictures 
or  something  of  that  sort  behind  him  to  carry 


3i6  Time  and  Space 


on  his  being  until  at  last  the  sympathetic  mind 
should  come    .    .  . 

It  seemed  incredible  to  him  that  this  that 
came  was  extinction.  Yet  his  sympathetic  spir- 
itual guide  was  in  this  matter  annoyingly  figu- 
rative and  vague.  Curse  science !  It  had  under- 
mined all  faith — all  hope.  To  go  out,  to 
vanish  from  theatre  and  street,  from  office  and 
dining-place,  from  the  dear  eyes  of  womankind. 
And  not  to  be  missed !  On  the  whole  to  leave 
the  world  happier ! 

He  reflected  that  he  had  never  worn  his  heart 
upon  his  sleeve.  Had  he  after  all  been  too  un- 
sympathetic? Few  people  could  suspect  how 
subtly  profound  he  really  w^as  beneath  the  mask 
of  that  cynical  gaiety  of  his.  They  would  not 
understand  the  loss  they  had  suffered.  Eliza- 
beth, for  example,  had  not  suspected  .... 

He  had  reserved  that.  His  thoughts  having 
come  to  Elizabeth  gravitated  about  her  for 
some  time.  How  little  Elizabeth  understood 
him! 

That  thought  became  intolerable.  Before  all 
other  things  he  must  set  that  right.  He  realised 
that  there  was  still  something  for  him  to  do  in 
life,  his  struggle  against  Elizabeth  was  even  yet 
not  over.   He  could  never  overcome  her  now, 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  317 

as  he  had  hoped  and  prayed.  But  he  might  still 
impress  her ! 

From  that  idea  he  expanded.  He  might  im- 
press her  profoundly — he  might  impress  her  so 
that  she  should  for  evermore  regret  her  treat- 
ment of  him.  The  thing  that  she  must  realise 
before  everything  else  was  his  magnanimity. 
His  magnanimity !  Yes !  he  had  loved  her  with 
amazing  greatness  of  heart.  He  had  not  seen 
it  so  clearly  before — but  of  course  he  was  going 
to  leave  her  all  his  property.  He  saw  it  in- 
stantly, as  a  thing  determined  and  inevitable. 
She  would  think  how  good  he  was,  how  spa- 
ciously generous ;  surrounded  by  all  that  makes 
life  tolerable  from  his  hand,  she  would  recall 
with  infinite  regret  her  scorn  and  coldness.  And 
when  she  sought  expression  for  that  regret,  she 
would  find  that  occasion  gone  forever,  she 
should  be  met  by  a  locked  door,  by  a  disdainful 
stillness,  by  a  white  dead  face.  He  closed  his 
eyes  and  remained  for  a  space  imagining  him- 
self that  white  dead  face. 

From  that  he  passed  to  other  aspects  of  the 
matter,  but  his  determination  was  assured.  He 
meditated  elaborately  before  he  took  action, 
for  the  drug  he  had  taken  inclined  him  to 
a  lethargic  and  dignified  melancholy.  In  cer- 
tain respects  he  modified  details.  If  he  left  all 


Time  and  Space 


his  property  to  Elizabeth  it  would  include  the 
voluptuously  appointed  room  he  occupied,  and 
for  many  reasons  he  did  not  care  to  leave  that 
to  her.  On  the  other  hand,  it  had  to  be  left  to 
some  one.  In  his  clogged  condition  this  worried 
him  extremely. 

In  the  end  he  decided  to  leave  it  to  the  sympa- 
thetic exponent  of  the  fashionable  religious  cult, 
whose  conversation  had  been  so  pleasing  in  the 
past.  ''He  will  understand,"  said  Bindon  with 
a  sentimental  sigh.  "He  knows  what  Evil 
means — he  understands  something  of  the  Stu- 
pendous Fascination  of  the  Sphinx  of  Sin.  Yes 
— he  will  understand.''  By  that  phrase  it  was 
that  Bindon  was  pleased  to  dignify  certain  un- 
healthy and  undignified  departures  from  sane 
conduct  to  which  a  misguided  vanity  and  an  ill- 
controlled  curiosity  had  led  him.  He  sat  for  a 
space  thinking  how  very  Hellenic  and  Italian 
and  Neronic,  and  all  those  things,  he  had  been. 
Even  now — might  one  not  try  a  sonnet?  A 
penetrating  voice  to  echo  down  the  ages,  sen- 
suous, sinister,  and  sad.  For  a  space  he  forgot 
Elizabeth.  In  the  course  of  half  an  hour  he 
spoilt  three  phonographic  coils,  got  a  headache, 
took  a  second  dose  to  calm  himself,  and  re- 
verted to  magnanimity  and  his  former  design. 

At  last  he  faced  the  unpalatable  problem  of 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  319 


Denton.  It  needed  all  his  newborn  magnani- 
mity before  he  could  swallow  the  thought  of 
Denton ;  but  at  last  this  greatly  misunderstood 
man,  assisted  by  his  sedative  and  the  near  ap- 
proach of  death,  effected  even  that.  If  he  was 
at  all  exclusive  about  Denton,  if  he  should  dis- 
play the  slightest  distrust,  if  he  attempted  any 
specific  exclusion  of  that  young  man,  she  might 
— misunderstand.  Yes — she  should  have  her 
Denton  still.  His  magnanimity  must  go  even  to 
that.  He  tried  to  think  only  of  Elizabeth  in  the 
matter. 

He  rose  with  a  sigh,  and  limped  across  to  the 
telephonic  apparatus  that  communicated  with 
his  solicitor.  In  ten  minutes  a  will  duly  attested 
and  with  its  proper  thumb-mark  signature  lay 
in  the  solicitor's  office  three  miles  away.  And 
then  for  a  space  Bindon  sat  very  still. 

Suddenly  he  started  out  of  a  vague  reverie 
and  pressed  an  investigatory  hand  to  his  side. 

Then  he  jumped  eagerly  to  his  feet  and 
rushed  to  the  telephone.  The  Euthanasia  Com- 
pany had  rarely  been  called  by  a  client  in  a 
greater  hurry. 

So  it  came  at  last  that  Denton  and  his  Eliza- 
beth, against  all  hope,  returned  unseparated 
from  the  labour  servitude  to  which  they  had 
fallen.  Elizabeth  came  out  from  her  cramped 


320  Time  and  Space 

r 

subterranean  den  of  metal-beaters  and  all  the 
sordid  circumstances  of  blue  canvas,  as  one 
comes  out  of  a  nightmare.  Back  towards  the 
sunlight  their  fortune  took  them ;  once  the  be- 
quest was  known  to  them,  the  bare  thought  of 
another  day's  hammering  became  intolerable. 
They  went  up  long  lifts  and  stairs  to  levels  that 
they  had  not  seen  since  the  days  of  their  dis- 
aster. At  first  she  was  full  of  this  sensation  of 
escape ;  even  to  think  of  the  underways  was  in- 
tolerable ;  only  after  many  months  could  she  be- 
gin to  recall  with  sympathy  the  faded  women 
who  were  still  below  there,  murmuring  scandals 
and  reminiscences  and  folly,  and  tapping  away 
their  lives. 

Her  choice  of  the  apartments  they  presently 
took  expressed  the  vehemence  of  her  release. 
They  were  rooms  upon  the  very  verge  of  the 
city ;  they  had  a  roof  space  and  a  balcony  upon 
the  city  wall,  wide  open  to  the  sun  and  wind, 
the  country  and  the  sky. 

And  in  that  balcony  comes  the  last  scene  in 
this  story.  It  was  a  summer  sunsetting,  and  the 
hills  of  Surrey  were  very  blue  and  clear.  Den- 
ton leant  upon  the  balcony  regarding  them,  and 
Elizabeth  sat  by  his  side.  Very  wide  and  spa- 
cious was  the  view,  for  their  balcony  hung  five 
hundred  feet  above  the  ancient  level  of  the 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  321 

ground.  The  oblongs  of  the  Food  Company, 
broken  here  and  there  by  the  ruins—- grotesque 
Httle  holes  and  sheds— of  the  ancient  suburbs, 
and  intersected  by  shining  streams  of  sewage, 
passed  at  last  into  a  remote  diapering  at  the 
foot  of  the  distant  hills.  There  once  had  been 
the  squatting-place  of  the  children  of  Uya.  On 
those  further  slopes  gaunt  machines  of  un- 
known import  worked  slackly  at  the  end  of  their 
spell,  and  the  hill  crest  was  set  with  stagnant 
wind  vanes.  Along  the  great  south  road  the  La- 
bour Company's  field  workers  in  huge  wheeled 
mechanical  vehicles,  were  hurrying  back  to  their 
meals,  their  last  spell  finished.  And  through  the 
air  a  dozen  little  private  aeropiles  sailed  down 
towards  the  city.  Familiar  scene  as  it  was  to 
the  eyes  of  Denton  and  Elizabeth,  it  would  have 
filled  the  minds  of  their  ancestors  with  incredu- 
lous amazement.  Denton's  thoughts  fluttered 
towards  the  future  in  a  vain  attempt  at  what 
that  scene  might  be  in  another  two  hundred 
years,  and,  recoiling,  turned  towards  the  past. 

He  shared  something  of  the  growing  knowl- 
edge of  the  time;  he  could  picture  the  quaint 
smoke-grimed  Victorian  city  with  its  narrow 
little  roads  of  beaten  earth,  its  wide  common- 
land,  ill-organised,  ill-built  suburbs,  and  irregu- 

X 


322  Time  and  Space 


lar  enclosures ;  the  old  countryside  of  the  Stuart 
times,  with  its  little  villages  and  its  petty  Lon- 
don; the  England  of  the  monasteries,  the  far 
older  England  of  the  Roman  dominion,  and 
then  before  that  a  wild  country  with  here  and 
there  the  huts  of  some  warring  tribe.  These 
huts  must  have  come  and  gone  and  come  again 
through  a  space  of  years  that  made  the  Roman 
camp  and  villa  seem  but  yesterday ;  and  before 
those  years,  before  even  the  huts,  there  had  been 
men  in  the  valley.  Even  then — so  recent  had  it 
all  been  when  one  judged  it  by  the  standards  of 
geological  time — this  valley  had  been  here ;  and 
those  hills  yonder,  higher,  perhaps,  and  snow- 
tipped,  had  still  been  yonder  hills,  and  the 
Thames  had  flowed  down  from  the  Cotswolds 
to  the  sea.  But  the  men  had  been  but  the  shapes 
of  men,  creatures  of  darkness  and  ignorance, 
victims  of  beasts  and  floods,  storms  and  pesti- 
lence and  incessant  hunger.  They  had  held  a 
precarious  foothold  amidst  bears  and  lions  and 
all  the  monstrous  violence  of  the  past.  Already 
some  at  least  of  these  enemies  were  over- 
come. 

For  a  time  Denton  pursued  the  thoughts  of 
this  spacious  vision,  trying  in  obedience  to  his 
instinct  to  find  his  place  and  proportion  in  the 
scheme. 


A  Story  of  the  Days  to  Come  323 

'It  has  been  chance/'  he  said,  "it  has  been 
luck.  We  have  come  througho  It  happens  we 
have  come  through.  Not  by  any  strength  of  our 
own.  ... 

''And  yet    ...    .    No.    I  don't  know." 

He  was  silent  for  a  long  time  before  he  spoke 
again. 

"After  all — there  is  a  long  time  yet.  There 
have  scarcely  been  men  for  twenty  thousand 
years — and  there  has  been  life  for  twenty  mil- 
lions. And  what  are  generations?  What  are 
generations  ?  It  is  enormous,  and  we  are  so  lit- 
tle. Yet  we  know — we  feel.  We  are  not  dumb 
atoms,  we  are  part  of  it — part  of  it — to  the  lim- 
its of  our  strength  and  will.  Even  to  die  is  part 
of  it.  Whether  we  die  or  live,  we  are  in  the 
making  .... 

"As  time  goes  on — perhaps — men~^will  be 
wiser    ....   Wiser  .... 

"Will  they  ever  understand  ?" 

He  became  silent  again.  Elizabeth  said  noth- 
ing to  these  things,  but  she  regarded  his  dream- 
ing face  with  infinite  affection.  Her  mind  was 
not  very  active  that  evening.  A  great  content- 
ment possessed  her.  After  a  time  she  laid  a 
gentle  hand  on  his  beside  her.  He  fondled  it 
softly,  still  looking  out  upon  the  spacious  gold- 


324  Time  and  Space 

woven  view.  So  they  sat  as  the  sun  went  down. 
Until  presently  Elizabeth  shivered. 

Denton  recalled  himself  abruptly  from  these 
spacious  issues  of  his  leisure,  and  went  in  to 
fetch  her  a  shawl. 


I 


§1- 

The  Man  Who  Could  Work 

Miracles 


1 


THE  MAN  WHO  COULD  WORK 

MIRACLES 


A  PANTOUM  IN  PROSE 

It  is  doubtful  whether  the  gift  was  innate. 
For  my  own  part,  I  think  it  came  to  him  sud- 
denly. Indeed,  until  he  was  thirty  he  was  a 
sceptic,  and  did  not  believe  in  miraculous  pow- 
ers. And  here,  since  it  is  the  most  convenient 
place,  I  must  mention  that  he  was  a  little  man, 
and  had  eyes  of  a  hot  brown,  very  erect  red 
hair,  a  moustache  with  ends  that  he  twisted  up, 
and  freckles.  His  name  was  George  McWhir- 
ter  Fotheringay — not  the  sort  of  name  by  any 
means  to  lead  to  any  expectation  of  miracles — 
and  he  was  clerk  at  Gomshotf  s.  He  was  greatly 
addicted  to  assertive  argument.  It  was  whilq 
he  was  asserting  the  impossibi  y  of  miracles 
that  he  had  his  first  intimation  of  his  extraordi- 
nary powers.  This  particular  argument  was 
being  held  in  the  bar  of  the  Long  Dragon,  and 
Toddy  Beamish  was  conducting  the  opposition 
by  a  monotonous  but  effective  "So  you  say,'' 

327 


328  Time  and  Space 


•  that  drove  Mr.  Fotheringay  to  the  very  limit  of 
his  patience. 

There  were  present,  besides  these  two,  a  very 
dusty  cycHst,  landlord  Cox,  and  Miss  May- 
bridge,  the  perfectly  respectable  and  rather 
portly  barmaid  of  the  Dragon.  Miss  Maybridge 
was  standing  with  her  back  to  Mr.  Fother- 
ingay, washing  glasses ;  the  others  were  watch- 
ing him,  more  or  less  amused  by  the  present  in- 
effectiveness of  the  assertive  method.  Goaded 
by  the  Torres  Vedras  tactics  of  Mr.  Beamish, 
Mr.  Fotheringay  determined  to  make  an  un- 
usual rhetorical  effort.  "Looky  here,  Mr.  Beam- 
ish/' said  Mr.  Fotheringay.  ^'Let  us  clearly  un- 
derstand what  a  miracle  is.  It's  something  con- 
trariwise to  the  course  of  nature  done  by  power 
of  Will,  something  what  couldn't  happen  with- 
out being  specially  willed." 

''So  you  say,"  said  Mr.  Beamish,  repulsing 
him. 

Mr.  Fotheringay  appealed  to  the  cyclist,  who 
had  hitherto  been  a  silent  auditor,  and  received 
his  assent — given  with  a  hesitating  cough  and 
a  glance  at  Mr.  Beamish.  The  landlord  would 
express  no  opinion,  and  Mr.  Fotheringay,  re- 
turning to  Mr.  Beamish,  received  the  unex- 
pected concession  of  a  qualified  assent  to  his 
definition  of  a  miracle. 


Working  Miracles  329 


"For  instance/'  said  Mr.  Fotheringay, 
greatly  encouraged.  *'Here  would  be  a  miracle. 
That  lamp,  in  the  natural  course  of  nature, 
couldn't  burn  like  that  upsy-down,  could  it, 
Beamish?'' 

''You  say  it  couldn't,"  said  Beamish. 

"And  you?"  said  Fotheringay.  "You  don't 
mean  to  say — eh?" 

"No,"  said  Beamish  reluctantly.  "No,  it 
couldn't." 

"Very  well,"  said  Mr.  Fotheringay.  "Then 
here  comes  someone,  as  it  might  be  me,  along 
here,  and  stands  as  it  might  be  here,  and  says 
to  that  lamp,  as  I  might  do,  collecting  all  my 
will — Turn  upsy-down  without  breaking,  and 
go  on  burning  steady,  and — Hullo !" 

It  was  enough  to  make  anyone  say  "Hullo !" 
The  impossible,  the  incredible,  was  visible  to 
them  all.  The  lamp  hung  inverted  in  the  air, 
burning  quietly  with  its  flame  pointing  down.  It 
was  as  solid,  as  indisputable  as  ever  a  lamp  was, 
the  prosaic  common  lamp  of  the  Long  Dragon 
bar. 

Mr.  Fotheringay  stood  with  an  extended 
forefinger  and  the  knitted  brows  of  one  antici- 
pating a  catastrophic  smash.  The  cyclist,  who 
was  sitting  next  the  lamp,  ducked  and  jumped 
across  the  bar.    Everybody  jumped,  more  or 


.  Time  and  Space 


less.  Miss  Maybridge  turned  and  screamed. 
For  nearly  three  seconds  the  lamp  remained 
still.  A  faint  cry  of  mental  distress  came  from 
Mr.  Fotheringay.  ''I  can't  keep  it  up,"  he  said, 
**any  longer."  He  staggered  back,  and  the  in- 
verted lamp  suddenly  flared,  fell  against  the 
corner  of  the  bar,  bounced  aside,  smashed  upon 
the  floor,  and  went  out. 

It  was  lucky  it  had  a  metal  receiver,  or  the 
whole  place  would  have  been  in  a  blaze.  Mr. 
Cox  was  the  first  to  speak,  and  his  remark, 
shorn  of  needless  excrescences,  was  to  the  effect 
that  Fotheringay  was  a  fool.  Fotheringay  was 
beyond  disputing  even  so  fundamental  a  propo- 
sition as  that !  He  was  astonished  beyond  meas- 
ure at  the  thing  that  had  occurred.  The  subse- 
quent conversation  threw  absolutely  no  light  on 
the  matter  so  far  as  Fotheringay  was  con- 
cerned; the  general  opinion  not  only  followed 
Mr.  Cox  very  closely  but  very  vehemently. 
Everyone  accused  Fotheringay  of  a  silly  trick,  ' 
and  presented  him  to  himself  as  a  foolish  de- 
stroyer of  comfort  and  security.  His  mind  was 
in  a  tornado  of  perplexity,  he  was  himself  in- 
clined to  agree  with  them,  and  he  made  a  re- 
markably ineffectual  opposition  to  the  proposal 
of  his  departure. 

He  went  home  flushed  and  heated,  coat-collar 


« 

Working  Miracles  331 


crumpled,  eyes  smarting  and  ears  red.  He 
watched  each  of  the  ten  street  lamps  nervously 
as  he  passed  it.  It  was  only  when  he  found  him- 
self alone  in  his  little  bed-room  in  Church  Row 
that  he  was  able  to  grapple  seriously  with  his 
memories  of  the  occurrence,  and  ask,  "What  on 
earth  happened 

He  had  removed  his  coat  and  boots,  and  was 
sitting  on  the  bed  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets 
repeating  the  text  of  his  defence  for  the  seven- 
teenth time,  '7  didn't  want  the  confounded 
thing  to  upset,"  when  it  occurred  to  him  that  at 
the  precise  moment  he  had  said  the  command-^^ 
ing  words  he  had  inadvertently  willed  the 
thing  he  said,  and  that  when  he  had  seen  the 
lamp  in  the  air  he  had  felt  that  it  depended  on 
him  to  maintain  it  there  without  being  clear 
how  this  was  to  be  done.  He  had  not  a  particu- 
larly complex  mind,  or  he  might  have  stuck  for 
a  time  at  that  * 'inadvertently  willed,''  embrac- 
ing, as  it  does,  the  abstrusest  problems  of  vol- 
untary action;  but  as  it  was,  the  idea  came  to 
him  with  a  quite  acceptable  haziness.  And 
from  that,  following,  as  I  must  admit,  no  clear 
logical  path,  he  came  to  the  test  of  experiment. 

He  pointed  resolutely  to  his  candle  and  col- 
lected his  mind,  though  he  felt  he  did  a  foolish 
thing.  "Be  raised  up,"  he  said.  But  in  a  second 


332  Time  and  Space 

that  reeling  vanished.  The  candle  was  raised, 
hung  in  the  air  one  giddy  moment,  and  as  Mr. 
Fotheringay  gasped,  fell  with  a  smash  on  his 
toilet-table,  leaving  him  in  darkness  save  for  the 
expiring  glow  of  its  wick. 

For  a  time  Mr.  Fotheringay  sat  in  the  dark- 
ness, perfectly  still.  "It  did  happen,  after  all,"  he 
said.  ''And  'ow  Fm  to  explain  it  I  don't  know." 
He  sighed  heavily,  and  began  feeling  in  his 
pockets  for  a  match.  He  could  find  none,  and 
he  rose  and  groped  about  the  toilet-table.  "I 
wish  I  had  a  match,"  he  said.  He  resorted  to 
his  coat,  and  there  was  none  there,  and  then  it 
dawned  upon  him  that  miracles  were  possible 
even  with  matches.  He  extended  a  hand  and 
scowled  at  it  in  the  dark.  "Let  there  be  a  match 
in  that  hand,"  he  said.  He  felt  some  light  ob- 
ject fall  across  his  palm,  and  his  fingers  closed 
upon  a  match. 

After  several  ineffectual  attempts  to  light 
this,  he  discovered  it  was  a  safety-match.  He 
threw  it  down,  and  then  it  occurred  to  him  that 
he  might  have  willed  it  lit.  He  did,  and  per- 
ceived it  burning  in  the  midst  of  his  toilet-table 
mat.  He  caught  it  up  hastily,  and  it  went  out. 
His  perception  of  possibilities  enlarged,  and  he 
felt  for  and  replaced  the  candle  in  its  candle- 
stick.  "Here !  you  be  lit,"  said  Mr.  Fotherin- 


Working  Miracles  333 


gay,  and  forthwith  the  candle  was  flaring,  and 
he  saw  a  little  black  hole  in  the  toilet-cover, 
with  a  wisp  of  smoke  rising  from  it.  For  a  time 
he  stared  from  this  to  the  little  flame  and  back, 
and  then  looked  up  and  met  his  own  gaze  in 
the  looking  glass.  By  this  help  he  communed 
with  himself  in  silence  for  a  time. 

"How  about  miracles  now  said  Mr.  Foth- 
eringay  at  last,  addressing  his  reflection. 

The  subsequent  meditations  of  Mr.  Fotherin- 
gay  were  of  a  severe  but  confused  description. 
So  far,  he  could  see  it  was  a  case  of  pure  willing 
with  him.  The  nature  of  his  experiences  so  far 
disinclined  him  for  any  further  experiments,  at 
least  until  he  had  reconsidered  them.  But  he 
lifted  a  sheet  of  paper,  and  turned  a  glass  of 
water  pink  and  then  green,  and  he  created  a 
snail,  which  he  miraculously  annihilated,  and 
got  himself  a  miraculous  new  tooth-brush. 
Somewhen  in  the  small  hours  he  had  reached 
the  fact  that  his  will-power  must  be  of  a  par- 
ticularly rare  and  pungent  quality,  a  fact  of 
which  he  had  certainly  had  inklings  before,  but 
no  certain  assurance.  The  scare  and  perplexity 
of  his  first  discovery  was  now  qualified  by  pride 
in  this  evidence  of  singularity  and  by  vague  in- 
timations of  advantage.  He  became  aware  that 
the  church  clock  was  striking  one,  and  as  it  did 


334  Time  and  Space 


not  occur  to  him  that  his  daily  duties  at  Gom- 
shott's  might  be  miraculously  dispensed  with, 
he  resumed  undressing,  in  order  to  get  to  bed 
without  further  delay.  As  he  struggled  to  get 
his  shirt  over  his  head,  he  was  struck  with  a 
brilliant  idea.  *'Let  me  be  in  bed,"  he  said,  and 
found  himself  so.  ''Undressed,"  he  stipulated; 
and,  finding  the  sheets  cold,  added  hastily,  ''and 
in  my  nightshirt — no,  in  a  nice  soft  woollen 
nightshirt.  Ah !"  he  said  with  immense  enjoy- 
ment. "And  now  let  me  be  comfortably 
asleep.    .    .  . 

He  awoke  at  his  usual  hour  and  was  pensive 
all  through  breakfast-time,  wondering  whether 
his  overnight  experience  might  not  be  a  particu- 
larly vivid  dream.  At  length  his  mind  turned 
again  to  cautious  experiments.  For  instance,  he 
had  three  eggs  for  breakfast ;  two  his  landlady 
had  supplied,  good,  but  shoppy,  and  one  was  a 
delicious  fresh  goose-egg,  laid,  cooked,  and 
served  by  his  extraordinary  will.  He  hurried 
off  to  Gomshott's  in  a  state  of  profound  but 
carefully  concealed  excitement,  and  only  re- 
membered the  shell  of  the  third  egg  when  his 
landlady  spoke  of  it  that  night.  All  day  he 
could  do  no  work  because  of  this  astonishingly 
new  self-knowledge,  but  this  caused  him  no  in- 


Working  Miracles  335 

convenience,  because  he  made  up  for  it  miracu- 
lously in  his  last  ten  minutes. 

As  the  day  wore  on  his  state  of  mind  passed 
from  wonder  to  elation,  albeit  the  circum- 
stances of  his  dismissal  from  the  Long  Dragon 
were  still  disagreeable  to  recall,  and  a  garbled 
account  of  the  matter  that  had  reached  his  col- 
leagues led  to  some  badinage.  It  was  evident 
he  must  be  careful  how  he  lifted  frangible  arti- 
cles, but  in  other  ways  his  gift  promised  more 
and  more  as  he  turned  it  over  in  his  mind.  He 
intended  among  other  things  to  increase  his 
personal  property  by  unostentatious  acts  of  cre- 
ation. He  called  into  existence  a  pair  of  very 
splendid  diamond  studs,  and  hastily  annihilated 
them  again  as  young  Gomshott  came  across  the 
counting-house  to  his  desk.  He  was  afraid 
young  Gomshott  might  wonder  how  he  had 
come  by  them.  He  saw  quite  clearly  the  gift 
required  caution  and  watchfulness  in  its  exer- 
cise, but  so  far  as  he  could  judge  the  difficulties 
attending  its  mastery  would  be  no  greater  than 
those  he  had  already  faced  in  the  study  of 
cycling.  It  was  that  analogy,  perhaps,  quite  as 
much  as  the  feeling  that  he  would  be  unwel- 
come in  the  Long  Dragon,  that  drove  him  out 
after  supper  into  the  lane  beyond  the  gas-works, 
to  rehearse  a  few  miracles  in  private. 


*336  Time  and  Space 


There  was  possibly  a  certain  want  of  origi- 
nality in  his  attempts,  for  apart  from  his  will- 
power Mr.  Fotheringay  was  not  a  very  excep- 
tional man.  The  miracle  of  Moses'  rod  came  to 
his  mind,  but  the  night  was  dark  and  unfavour- 
able to  the  proper  control  of  large  miraculous 
snakes.  Then  he  recollected  the  story  of  "Tann- 
hauser"  that  he  had  read  on  the  back  of  the 
Philharmonic  programme.  That  seemed  to  hifn 
singularly  attractive  and  harmless.  He  stuck 
his  walking-stick — a  very  nice  Poona-Penang 
lawyer — into  the  turf  that  edged  the  footpath, 
and  commanded  the  dry  wood  to  blossom.  The 
air  was  immediately  full  of  the  scent  of  roses, 
and  by  means  of  a  match  he  saw  for  himself 
that  this  beautiful  miracle  was  indeed  accom- 
plished. His  satisfaction  was  ended  by  advanc- 
ing footsteps.  Afraid  of  a  premature  discovery 
of  his  powers,  he  addressed  the  blossoming  stick 
hastily:  '*Go  back."  What  he  meant  was 
'^Change  back but  of  course  he  was  confused. 
The  stick  receded  at  a  considerable  velocity, 
and  incontinently  came  a  cry  of  anger  and  a 
bad  word  from  the  approaching  person.  '^Who 
are  you  throwing  brambles  at,  you  fool  cried 
a  voice.   ^*That  got  me  on  the  shin.'' 

"I'm  sorry,  old  chap,"  said  Mr.  Fotheringay, 
and  then  realising  the  awkward  nature  of  the 


Working  Miracles  337 


explanation,  caught  nervously  at  his  moustache. 
He  saw  Winch,  one  of  the  three  Immering  con- 
stables, advancing. 

''What  d'yer  mean  by  it?"  asked  the  consta- 
ble. Hullo !  It's  you,  is  it  ?  The  gent  that  broke 
the  lamp  at  the  Long  Dragon !" 

"I  don't  mean  anything  by  it,"  said  Mr. 
Fotheringay.   ''Nothing  at  all." 

"What  d'yer  do  it  for  then  ?" 

"Oh,  bother !"  said  Mr.  Fotheringay. 

"Bother  indeed !  D'yer  know  that  stick  hurt? 
What  d'yer  do  it  for,  eh?" 

For  the  moment  Mr.  Fotheringay  could  not 
think  what  he  had  done  it  for.  His  silence 
seemed  to  irritate  Mr.  Winch.  "You've  been  as- 
saulting the  police,  young  man,  this  time. 
That's  what  you  done." 

"Look  here,  Mr.  Winch,"  said  Mr.  Fotherin- 
gay, annoyed  and  confused,  "I'm  very  sorry. 
The  fact  is  " 

"Well  ?" 

He  could  think  of  no  way  but  the  truth.  "I 
was  working  a  miracle."  He  tried  to  speak  in 
an  off-hand  way,  but  try  as  he  would  he 
couldn't. 

"Working  a  !    'Ere,  don't  you  talk  rot. 

Working  a  miracle,  indeed !  Miracle !  Well, 
that's  downright  funny !    Why,  you's  the  chap 

Y 


Time  and  Space 


that  don't  believe  in  miracles  Fact  is, 

this  is  another  of  your  silly  conjuring  tricks — 
that's  what  this  is.    Now,  I  tell  you  " 

But  Mr.  Fotheringay  never  heard  what  Mr. 
Winch  was  going  to  tell  him.  He  realised  he 
had  given  himself  away,  flung  his  valuable  se- 
cret to  all  the  winds  of  heaven.  A  violent  gust 
of  irritation  swept  him  to  action.  He  turned 
on  the  constable  swiftly  and  fiercely.  ''Here," 
he  said,  "I  Ve  had  enough  of  this,  I  have !  TU 
show  you  a  silly  conjuring  trick,  I  will !  Go  to 
Hades!    Go,  now!" 

He  was  alone ! 

Mr.  Fotheringay  performed  no  more  mira- 
cles that  night,  nor  did  he  trouble  to  see  what 
had  become  of  his  flowering  stick.  He  re- 
turned to  the  town,  scared  and  very  quiet,  and 
went  to  his  bed-room.  ''Lord!"  he  said,  "it's  a 
powerful  gift — an  extremely  powerful  gift.  I 
didn't  hardly  mean  as  much  as  that.  Not 
really.  ...  I  wonder  what  Hades  is  like !  " 

He  sat  on  the  bed  taking  off  his  boots. 
Struck  by  a  happy  thought  he  transferred  the 
constable  to  San  Francisco,  and  without  any 
more  interference  with  normal  causation  went 
soberly  to  bed.  In  the  night  he  dreamt  of  the 
anger  of  Winch. 

The  next  day  Mr.  Fotheringay  heard  two 


Working  Miracles 


interesting  items  of  news.  Someone  had 
planted  a  most  beautiful  climbing  rose  against 
the  elder  Mr.  Gomshott's  private  house  in  the 
LuUaborough  Road,  and  the  river  as  far  as 
Rawling's  Mill  was  to  be  dragged  for  Constable 
Winch. 

Mr.  Fotheringay  was  abstracted  and  thought- 
ful all  that  day,  and  performed  no  miracles 
except  certain  provisions  for  Winch,  and  the 
miracle  of  completing  his  day's  work  with 
punctual  perfection  in  spite  of  all  the  bee-swarm 
of  thoughts  that  hummed  through  his  mind. 
And  the  extraordinary  abstraction  and  meek- 
ness of  his  manner  was  remarked  by  several 
people,  and  made  a  matter  for  jesting.  For  the 
most  part  he  was  thinking  of  Winch. 

On  Sunday  evening  he  went  to  chapel,  and 
oddly  enough,  Mr.  Maydig,  who  took  a  certain 
interest  in  occult  matters,  preached  about 
"things  that  are  not  lawful."  Mr.  Fotherin- 
gay was  not  a  regular  chapel  goer,  but  the  sys- 
tem of  assertive  scepticism,  to  which  I  have  al- 
ready alluded,  was  now  very  much  shaken.  The 
tenor  of  the  sermon  threw  an  entirely  new  light 
on  these  novel  gifts,  and  he  suddenly  decided 
to  consult  Mr.  Maydig  immediately  after  the 
service.    So  soon  as  that  was  determined,  he 


Time  and  Space 


found  himself  wondering  why  he  had  not  done 
so  before. 

Mr.  Maydig,  a  lean,  excitable  man  with  quite 
remarkably  long  wrists  and  neck,  was  gratified 
at  a  request  for  a  private  conversation  from  a 
young  man  whose  carelessness  in  religious 
matters  was  a  subject  for  general  remark  in  the 
town.  After  a  few  necessary  delays,  he  con- 
ducted him  to  the  study  of  the  Manse,  which 
was  contiguous  to  the  chapel,  seated  him  com- 
fortably, and,  standing  in  front  of  a  cheerful 
fire — his  legs  threw  a  Rhodian  arch  of  shadow 
on  the  opposite  wall — requested  Mr.  Fotherin- 
gay  to  state  his  business. 

At  first  Mr.  Fotheringay  was  a  little 
abashed,  and  found  some  difficulty  in  opening 
the  matter.  ^'You  will  scarcely  believe  me,  Mr. 
Maydig,  I  am  afraid" — and  so  forth  for  some 
time.  He  tried  a  question  at  last,  and  asked 
Mr.  Maydig  his  opinion  of  miracles. 

Mr.  Maydig  was  still  saying  ''Well"  in  an 
extremely  judicial  tone,  when  Mr.  Fotheringay 
interrupted  again:  "You  don't  believe,  I  sup- 
pose, that  some  common  sort  of  person — like 
myself,  for  instance — as  it  might  be  sitting 
here  now,  might  have  some  sort  of  twist  inside 
him  that  made  him  able  to  do  things  by  his 
will." 


Working  Miracles  341 

"It's  possible,"  said  Mr.  Maydig.  "Some- 
thing of  the  sort,  perhaps,  is  possible." 

"If  I  might  make  free  with  something  here, 
I  think  I  might  show  you  by  a  sort  of  experi- 
ment," said  Mr.  Fotheringay.  "Now,  take  that 
tobacco- jar  on  the  table,  for  instance.  What  I 
want  to  know  is  whether  what  I  am  going  to  do 
with  it  is  a  miracle  or  not.  Just  half  a  minute, 
Mr.  Maydig,  please." 

He  knitted  his  brows,  pointed  to  the  tobacco- 
jar  and  said :  "Be  a  bowl  of  vi'lets." 

The  tobacco- jar  did  as  it  was  ordered. 

Mr.  Maydig  started  violently  at  the  change, 
and  stood  looking  from  the  thaumaturgist  to 
the  bowl  of  flowers.  He  said  nothing.  Pres- 
ently he  ventured  to  lean  over  the  table  and 
smell  the  violets;  they  were  fresh-picked  and 
very  fine  ones.  Then  he  stared  at  Mr.  Fother- 
ingay again. 

"How  did  you  do  that?"  he  asked. 

Mr.  Fotheringay  pulled  his  moustache.  "Just 
told  it — and  there  you  are.  Is  that  a  miracle, 
or  is  it  black  art,  or  what  is  it  ?  And  what  do 
you  think's  the  matter  with  me  ?  That's  what  I 
want  to  ask." 

"It's  a  most  extraordinary  occurrence." 

"And  this  day  last  week  I  knew  no  more  that 
I  could  do  things  like  that  than  you  did.  It 


342  Time  and  Space 


came  quite  sudden.  It's  something  odd  about 
my  will,  I  suppose,  and  that's  as  far  as  I  can 
see." 

"Is  that — the  only  thing.  Could  you  do 
other  things  besides  that?" 

''Lord,  yes!  said  Mr.  Fotheringay.  "J^st 
anything."  He  thought,  and  suddenly  recalled 
a  conjuring  entertainment  he  had  seen. 
''Here!"  He  pointed.  "Change  into  a  bowl  of 
fish — no,  not  that — change  into  a  glass  bowl 
full  of  water  with  goldfish  swimming  in  it. 
That's  better!    You  see  that,  Mr.  Maydig?" 

"It's  astonishing.  It's  incredible.  You 
are  either  a  most  extraordinary  .  .  .  But  no 


"I  could  change  it  into  anything,"  said  Mr. 
Fotheringay.  "Just  anything.  Here!  be  a 
pigeon,  will  you?" 

In  another  moment  a  blue  pigeon  was  flutter- 
ing round  the  room  and  making  Mr.  Maydig 
duck  every  time  it  came  near  him.  "Stop 
there,  will  you,"  said  Mr.  Fotheringay;  and  the 
pigeon  hung  motionless  in  the  air.  "I  could 
change  it  back  to  a  bowl  of  flowers,"  he  said, 
and  after  replacing  the  pigeon  on  the  table 
worked  that  miracle.  "I  expect  you  will  want 
your  pipe  in  a  bit,"  he  said,  and  restored  the  to- 
bacco-jar. 


Working  Miracles  343 

Mr.  Maydig  had  followed  all  these  later 
changes  in  a  sort  of  ejaculatory  silence.  He 
stared  at  Mr.  Fotheringay  and,  in  a  very  gin- 
gerly manner,  picked  up  the  tobacco- jar,  exam- 
ined it,  replaced  it  on  the  table.  "Well!''  was 
the  only  expression  of  his  feelings. 

"Now,  after  that  it's  easier  to  explain  what 
I  came  about,"  said  Mr.  Fotheringay;  and  pro- 
ceeded to  a  lengthy  and  involved  narrative  of 
his  strange  experiences,  beginning  with  the 
affair  of  the  lamp  in  the  Long  Dragon  and  com- 
plicated by  persistent  allusions  to  Winch.  As 
he  went  on,  the  transient  pride  Mr.  Maydig's 
consternation  had  caused  passed  away;  he  be- 
came the  very  ordinary  Mr.  Fotheringay  of 
everyday  intercourse  again.  Mr.  Maydig  lis- 
tened intently,  the  tobacco-jar  in  his  hand,  and 
his  bearing  changed  also  with  the  course  of  the 
narrative.  Presently,  while  Mr.  Fotheringay 
was  dealing  with  the  miracle  of  the  third  egg, 
the  minister  interrupted  with  a  fluttering  ex- 
tended hand — 

'It  is  possible,"  he  said.  "It  is  credible.  It 
is  amazing,  of  course,  but  it  reconciles  a  num- 
ber of  amazing  difficulties.  The  power  to  work 
miracles  is  a  gift — a  peculiar  quality  like  genius 
or  second  sight  —  hitherto  it  has  come  very 
rarely  and  to  exceptional  people.    But  in  this 


344  Time  and  Space 


case  ...  I  have  always  wondered  at  the  mira- 
cles of  Mahomet,  and  at  Yogi's  miracles,  and 
the  miracles  of  Madame  Blavatsky.  But,  of 
course!  Yes,  it  is  simply  a  gift!  It  carries 
out  so  beautifully  the  arguments  of  that  great 
thinker" — Mr.  Maydig's  voice  sank — "his 
Grace  the  Duke  of  Argyll.  Here  we  plumb 
some  profounder  law — deeper  than  the  ordi- 
nary laws  of  nature.  Yes — ^yes.  Go  on.  Go 
on!" 

Mr.  Fotheringay  proceeded  to  tell  of  his 
misadventure  with  Winch,  and  Mr.  Maydig,  no 
longer  overawed  or  scared,  began  to  jerk  his 
limbs  about  and  interject  astonishment.  *'It's 
this  what  troubled  me  most,"  proceeded  Mr. 
Fotheringay;  ''it's  this  I'm  most  mijitly  in 
want  of  advice  for;  of  course  he's  at  San 
Francisco — wherever  San  Francisco  may  be — 
but  of  course  it's  awkward  for  both  of  us,  as 
you'll  see,  Mr.  Maydig.  I  don't  see  how  he 
can  understand  what  has  happened,  and  I  dare- 
say he's  scared  and  exasperated  something  tre- 
mendous, and  trying  to  get  at  me.  I  daresay 
he  keeps  on  starting  off  to  come  here.  I  send 
him  back,  by  a  miracle,  every  few  hours, 
when  I  think  of  it.  And  of  course,  that's  a 
thing  he  won't  be  able  to  understand,  and  it's 
bound  to  annoy  him ;  and,  of  course,  if  he  takes 


Working  Miracles  345 


a  ticket  every  time  it  will  cost  him  a  lot  of 
money.  I  done  the  best  I  could  for  him,  but  of 
course  it's  difficult  for  him  to  put  himself  in  my 
place.  I  thought  afterwards  that  his  clothes 
might  have  got  scorched,  you  know — if  Hades 
is  all  it's  supposed  to  be — before  I  shifted  him. 
In  that  case  I  suppose  they'd  have  locked  him 
up  in  San  Francisco.  Of  course  I  willed  him 
a  new  suit  of  clothes  on  him  directly  I  thought 
of  it.  But,  you  see,  I'm  already  in  a  deuce  of  a 
tangle  " 

Mr.  Maydig  looked  serious.  ''I  see  you  are 
in  a  tangle.  Yes,  it's  a  difficult  position.  How 
you  are  to  end  it  .  .  ."  He  became  diffuse  and 
inconclusive. 

''However,  we'll  leave  Winch  for  a  little  and 
discuss  the  larger  question.  I  don't  think  this 
is  a  case  of  the  black  art  or  anything  of  the  sort. 
I  don't  think  there  is  any  taint  of  criminality 
about  it  at  all,  Mr.  Fotheringay — none  what- 
ever, unless  you  are  suppressing  material  facts. 
No,  it's  miracles — pure  miracles — miracles,  if 
I  may  say  so,  of  the  very  highest  class." 

He  began  to  pace  the  hearthrug  and  gesticu- 
late, while  Mr.  Fotheringay  sat  with  his  arm  on 
the  table  and  his  head  on  his  arm,  looking  wor- 
ried. "I  don't  see  how  I'm  to  manage  about 
Winch/'  he  said. 


Time  and  Space 


''A  gift  of  working  miracles — apparently  a 
very  powerful  gift/'  said  Mr.  Maydig,  ''will 
find  a  way  about  Winch — never  fear.  My  dear 
Sir,  you  are  a  most  important  man — a  man  of 
the  most  astonishing  possibilities.  As  evidence, 
for  example!  And  in  other  ways,  the  things 
you  may  do  .  .  . 

''Yes,  r've  thought  of  a  thing  or  two,"  said 
Mr.  Fotheringay.  "But — some  of  the  things 
came  a  bit  twisty.  You  saw  that  fish  at  first? 
Wrong  sort  of  bowl  and  wrong  sort  of  fish. 
And  I  thought  I'd  ask  someone." 

"A  proper  course,"  said  Mr.  Maydig,  "a  very 
proper  course — altogether  the  proper  course." 
He  stopped  and  looked  at  Mr.  Fotheringay. 
"It's  practically  an  unlimited  gift.  Let  us  test 
your  powers,  for  instance.  If  they  really  are 
...  If  they  really  are  all  they  seem  to  be." 

And  so,  incredible  as  it  may  seem,  in  the 
study  of  the  little  house  behind  the  Congrega- 
tional Chapel,  on  the  evening  of  Sunday,  Nov. 
lo,  1896,  Mr.  Fotheringay,  egged  on  and  in- 
spired by  Mr.  Maydig,  began  to  work  miracles. 
The  reader's  attention  is  specially  and  definitely 
called  to  the  date.  He  will  object,  probably 
has  already  objected,  that  certain  points  in  this 
story  are  improbable,  that  if  any  things  of  the 
sort  already  described  had  indeed  occurred. 


Working  Miracles  347 


they  would  have  been  in  all  the  papers  a  year 
ago.  The  details  immediately  following  he  will 
find  particularly  hard  to  accept,  because  among 
other  things  they  involve  the  conclusion  that  he 
or  she,  the  reader  in  question,  must  have  been 
killed  in  a  violent  and  unprecedented  manner 
more  than  a  year  ago.  Now  a  miracle  is 
nothing  if  not  improbable,  and  as  a  matter  of 
fact  the  reader  was  killed  in  a  violent  and  un- 
precedented manner  a  year  ago.  In  the  subse- 
quent course  of  this  story  that  will  become  per- 
fectly clear  and  credible,  as  every  right-minded 
and  reasonable  reader  will  admit.  But  this  is  not 
the  place  for  the  end  of  the  story,  being  but  lit- 
tle beyond  the  hither  side  of  the  middle.  And 
at  first  the  miracles  worked  by  Mr.  Fotherin- 
gay  were  timid  little  miracles — little  things 
with  the  cups  and  parlour  fitments,  as  feeble  as 
the  miracles  of  Theosophists,  and,  feeble  as  they 
were,  they  were  received  with  awe  by  his  col- 
laborator. He  would  have  preferred  to  settle 
the  Winch  business  out  of  hand,  but  Mr.  May- 
dig  would  not  let  him.  But  after  they  had 
worked  a  dozen  of  these  domestic  trivialities, 
their  sense  of  power  grew,  their  imagination  be- 
gan to  show  signs  of  stimulation,  and  their  am- 
bition enlarged.  Their  first  larger  enterprise 
was  due  to  hunger  and  the  negligence  of  Mrs. 


34 S  Time  and  Space 


Minchin,  Mr.  Maydig's  housekeeper.  The 
meal  to  which  the  minister  conducted  Mr.  Foth- 
eringay  was  certainly  ill-laid  and  uninviting  as 
refreshment  for  two  industrious  miracle-work- 
ers ;  but  they  were  seated,  and  Mr.  Maydig  was 
descanting  in  sorrow  rather  than  in  anger  upon 
his  housekeeper's  shortcomings,  before  it  oc- 
curred to  Mr.  Fotheringnay  that  an  opportunity 
lay  before  him.  ''Don't  you  think,  Mr.  May- 
dig,"  he  said,  "if  it  isn't  a  liberty,  /  

''My  dear  Mr.  Fotheringay !  Of  course !  No 
—I  didn't  think." 

Mr.  Fotheringay  waved  his  hand.  "What 
shall  we  have?"  he  said,  in  a  large,  inclusive 
spirit,  and,  at  Mr.  Maydig's  order,  revised  the 
supper  very  thoroughly.  "As  for  me,"  he  said, 
eyeing  Mr.  Maydig's  selection,  "I  am  always 
particularly  fond  of  a  tankard  of  stout  and  a 
nice  Welsh  rarebit,  and  I'll  order  that.  I  ain't 
much  given  to  Burgundy,"  and  forthwith  stout 
and  Welsh  rarebit  promptly  appeared  at  his 
command.  They  sat  long  at  their  supper,  talk- 
ing like  equals,  as  Mr.  Fotheringay  presently 
perceived,  with  a  glow  of  surprise  and  gratifi- 
cation, of  all  the  miracles  they  would  presently 
do.  "And,  by  the  bye,  Mr.  Maydig,"  said  Mr. 
Fotheringay,  "I  might  perhaps  be  able  to  help 
you — in  a  domestic  way." 


Working  Miracles  349 


"Don't  quite  follow/'  said  Mr.  Maydig 
pouring  out  a  glass  of  miraculous  old  Bur- 
gundy. 

Mr.  Fotheringay  helped  himself  to  a  second 
Welsh  rarebit  out  of  vacancy,  and  took  a 
mouthful.  "I  was  thinking,"  he  said,  "I  might 
be  able  (chum,  chum)  to  work  (chum,  chum)  a 
miracle  with  Mrs.  Minchin  (chum,  chum)  — 
make  her  a  better  woman." 

Mr.  Maydig  put  down  the  glass  and  looked 

doubtful.    "She's   She  strongly  objects 

to  interference,  you  know,  Mr.  Fotheringay. 
And — as  a  matter  of  fact — it's  well  past  eleven 
and  she's  probably  in  bed  and  asleep.  Do  you 
think,  on  the  whole  " 

Mr.  Fotheringay  considered  these  objections. 
"I  don't  see  that  it  shouldn't  be  done  in  'her 
sleep." 

For  a  time  Mr.  Maydig  opposed  the  idea,  and 
then  he  yielded.  Mr.  Fotheringay  issued  his 
orders,  and  a  little  less  at  their  ease,  perhaps, 
the  two  gentlemen  proceeded  with  their  repast. 
Mr.  Maydig  was  enlarging  on  the  changes  he 
might  expect  in  his  housekeeper  next  day,  with 
an  optimism  that  seemed  even  to  Mr.  Fother- 
ingay's  supper  senses  a  little  forced  and  hectic, 
when  a  series  of  confused  noises  from  upstairs 
began.    Their  eyes  exchanged  interrogations, 


350  Time  and  Space 


and  Mr.  Maydig  left  the  room  hastily.  Mr. 
Fotheringay  heard  him  calling  up  to  his  house- 
keeper and  then  his  footsteps  going  softly  up  to 
her. 

In  a  minute  or  so  the  minister  returned,  his 
step  light,  his  face  radiant.  "Wonderful!"  he 
said,  "and  touching!    Most  touching!'' 

He  began  pacing  the  hearthrug.  "A  re- 
pentance —  a  most  touching  repentance  — 
through  the  crack  of  the  door.  Poor  woman! 
A  most  wonderful  change!  She  had  got  up. 
She  must  have  got  up  at  once.  She  had  got  up 
out  of  her  sleep  to  smash  a  private  bottle  of 
brandy  in  her  box.  And  to  confess  it  too! 
.  .  .  But  this  gives  us — it  opens — a  most 
amazing  vista  of  possibilities.  If  we  can  work 
this  miraculous  change  in  her,    .  . 

"The  thing's  unlimited  seemingly,"  said  Mr. 
Fotheringay.   "And  about  Mr.  Winch — " 

"Altogether  unlimited."  And  from  the 
hearthrug  Mr.  Maydig,  waving  the  Winch  dif- 
ficulty aside,  unfolded  a  series  of  wonderful 
proposals — proposals  he  invented  as  he  went 
along. 

Now  what  those  proposals  were  does  not  con- 
cern the  essentials  of  this  story.  Suffice  it  that 
they  were  designed  in  a  spirit  of  infinite  benevo- 
lence, the  sort  of  benevolence  that  used  to  be 


Working  Miracles  351 

called  post-prandial.  Suffice  it,  too,  that  the 
problem  of  Winch  remained  unsolved.  Nor  is 
it  necessary  to  describe  how  far  that  series  got 
to  its  fulfilment.  There  were  astonishing 
changes.  The  small  hours  found  Mr.  Maydig 
and  Mr.  Fotheringay  careering  across  the  chilly 
market-square  under  the  still  moon,  in  a  sort  of 
ecstasy  of  thaumaturgy,  Mr.  Maydig  all  flap 
and  gesture,  Mr.  Fotheringay  short  and  brist- 
ling, and  no  longer  abashed  at  his  greatness. 
They  had  reformed  every  drunkard  in  the  Par- 
liamentary division,  changed  all  the  beer  and 
alcohol  to  water  (Mr.  Maydig  had  overruled 
Mr.  Fotheringay  on  this  point)  ;  they  had,  fur- 
ther, greatly  improved  the  railway  communica- 
tion of  the  place,  drained  Flinder's  swamp,  im- 
proved the  soil  of  One  Tree  Hill,  and  cured  the 
Vicar's  wart.  And  they  were  going  to  see  what 
could  be  done  with  the  injured  pier  at  South 
Bridge.  "The  place,"  gasped  Mr.  Maydig, 
"won't  be  the  same  place  to-morrow.  How  sur- 
prised and  thankful  everyone  will  be!"  And 
just  at  that  moment  the  church  clock  struck 
three. 

"I  say,"  said  Mr.  Fotheringay,  "that's  three 
o'clock!  I  must  be  getting  back.  I've  got  to 
be  at  business  by  eight.  And  besides,  Mrs. 
Wimms — " 


352  Time  and  Space 


"We're  only  beginning,"  said  Mr.  Maydig, 
full  of  the  sweetness  of  unlimited  power. 
''We're  only  beginning.  Think  of  all  the  good 
we're  doing.   When  people  wake — " 

''But — ,"  said  Mr.  Fotheringay. 

Mr.  Maydig  gripped  his  arm  suddenly.  His 
eyes  were  bright  and  wild.  "My  dear  chap," 
he  said,  "there's  no  hurry.  Look" — he  pointed 
to  the  moon  at  the  zenith — "Joshua !" 

"Joshua?"  said  Mr.  Fotheringay. 

"Joshua,"  said  Mr.  Maydig.  "Why  not? 
Stop  it." 

Mr.  Fotheringay  looked  at  the  moon. 
That's  a  bit  tall,"  he  said  after  a  pause. 
Why  not?"  said  Mr.  Maydig.    "Of  course 
it  doesn't  stop.    You  stop  the  rotation  of  the 
earth,  you  know.    Time  stops.    It  isn't  as  if 
we  were  doing  harm." 

"H'm !"  said  Mr.  Fotheringay.  "Well."  He 
sighed.   "I'll  try.  Here—" 

He  buttoned  up  his  jacket  and  addressed 
himself  to  the  habitable  globe,  with  as  good  an 
assumption  of  confidence  as  lay  in  his  power. 
"Jest  stop  rotating,  will  you,"  said  Mr.  Fother- 
ingay. 

Incontinently  he  was  flying  head  over  heels 
through  the  air  at  the  rate  of  dozens  of  miles  a 
minute.    In  spite  of  the  innumerable  circles  he 


6C 


Working  Miracles  353 

was  describing  per  second,  he  thought;  for 
thought  is  wonderful — sometimes  as  sluggish 
as  flowing  pitch,  sometimes  as  instantaneous  as 
light.  He  thought  in  a  second,  and  willed. 
*'Let  me  come  down  safe  and  sound.  What- 
ever else  happens,  let  me  down  safe  and  sound.'' 
He  willed  it  only  just  in  time,  for  his 
clothes,  heated  by  his  rapid  flight  through  the 
air,  were  already  beginning  to  singe.  He  came 
down  with  a  forcible,  but  by  no  means  injurious 
bump  in  what  appeared  to  be  a  mound  of  fresh- 
turned  earth.  A  large  mass  of  metal  and 
masonry,  extraordinarily  like  the  clock-tower 
in  the  middle  of  the  market-square,  hit  the 
earth  near  him,  ricochetted  over  him,  and  flew 
into  stonework,  bricks,  and  masonry,  like  a 
bursting  bomb.  A  hurtling  cow  hit  one  of  the 
larger  blocks  and  smashed  like  an  egg.  There 
was  a  crash  that  made  all  the  most  violent 
crashes  of  his  past  life  seem  like  the  sound  of 
falling  dust,  and  this  was  followed  by  a  de- 
scending series  of  lesser  crashes.  A  vast  wind 
.  roared  throughout  earth  and  heaven,  so  that  he 
could  scarcely  lift  his  head  to  look.  For  a 
while  he  was  too  breathless  and  astonished  even 
to  see  where  he  was  or  what  had  happened. 
And  his  first  movement  was  to  feel  his  head 


354  Time  and  Space 


and  reassure  himself  that  his  streaming  hair 
was  still  his  own. 

''Lord gasped  Mr.  Fotheringay,  scarce  able 
to  speak  for  the  gale,  ''IVe  had  a  squeak! 
What's  gone  wrong?  Storms  and  thimder. 
And  only  a  minute  ago  a  fine  night.  It's  May- 
dig  set  me  on  to  this  sort  of  thing.  What  a 
wind !  If  I  go  on  fooling  in  this  way  I'm  bound 
to  have  a  thundering  accident !    .    .  . 

''Where's  Maydig? 

"What  a  confounded  mess  everything's  in!" 

He  looked  about  him  so  far  as  his  flapping 
jacket  would  permit.  The  appearance  of  things 
was  really  extremely  strange.  "The  sky's  all 
right  anyhow,"  said  Mr.  Fotheringay.  "And 
that's  about  all  that  is  all  right.  And  even  there 
it  looks  like  a  terrific  gale  coming  up.  But 
'  there's  the  moon  overhead.  Just  as  it  was  just 
now.  Bright  as  midday.  But  as  for  the  rest — 
Where's  the  village?  Where's — where's  any- 
thing? And  what  on  earth  set  this  wind  a- 
. blowing?  /  didn't  order  no  wind." 
.  Mr.  Fotheringay  struggled  to  get  to  his  feet 
in  vain,  and  after  one  failure,  remained  on  all 
fours,  holding  on.  He  surveyed  the  moonlit 
world  to  leeward,  with  the  tails  of  his  jacket 
streaming  over  his  head.    "There's  something 


Working  Miracles  355 


seriously  wrong,"  said  Mr.  Fotheringay.  "And 
what  it  is — goodness  knows." 

Far  and  wide  nothing  was  visible  in  the 
white  glare  through  the  haze  of  dust  that  drove 
before  a  screaming  gale  but  tumbled  masses  of 
earth  and  heaps  of  inchoate  ruins,  no  trees,  no 
houses,  no  familiar  shapes,  only  a  wilderness  of 
disorder  vanishing  at  last  into  the  darkness  be- 
neath the  whirling  columns  and  streamers,  the 
lightnings  and  thunderings  of  a  swiftly  rising 
storm.  Near  him  in  the  livid  glare  was  some- 
thing that  might  once  have  been  an  elm-tree,  a 
smashed  mass  of  splinters,  shivered  from 
boughs  to  base,  and  further  a  twisted  mass  of 
iron  girders — only  too  evidently  the  viaduct — 
rose  out  of  the  piled  confusion. 

You  see,  when  Mr.  Fotheringay  had  arrested 
the  rotation  of  the  solid  globe,  he  had  made  no 
stipulation  concerning  the  trifling  movables 
upon  its  surface.  And  the  earth  spins  so  fast 
that  the  surface  at  its  equator  is  travelling  at 
rather  more  than  a  thousand  miles  an  hour,  and 
in  these  latitudes  at  more  than  half  that  pace. 
So  that  the  village,  and  Mr.  Maydig,  and  Mr. 
Fotheringay,  and  everybody  and  everything 
had  been  jerked  violently  forward  at  about  nine 
miles  per  second — that  is  to  say,  much  more 
violently  than  if  they  had  been  fired  out  of  a 


Time  and  Space 


cannon.  And  every  human  being,  every  living 
creature,  every  house,  and  every  tree — all  the 
world  as  we  know  it — had  been  so  jerked  and 
^smashed  and  utterly  destroyed.  That  was  all. 
These  things  Mr.  Fotheringay  did  not,  of 
course,  fully  appreciate.  But  he  perceived  that 
his  miracle  had  miscarried,  and  with  that  a 
great  disgust  of  miracles  came  upon  him.  He 
was  in  darkness  now,  for  the  clouds  had  swept 
together  and  blotted  out  his  momentary  glimpse 
of  the  moon,  and  the  air  was  full  of  fitful  strug- 
gling tortured  wraiths  of  hail.  A  great  roaring 
of  wind  and  waters  filled  earth  and  sky,  and, 
peering  under  his  hand  through  the  dust  and 
sleet  to  windward,  he  saw  by  the  play  of  the 
lightnings  a  vast  wall  of  water  pouring  towards 
him. 

''Maydig screamed  Mr.  Fotheringay's  fee- 
ble voice  amid  the  elemental  uproar.  "Here! 
— Maydig  r 

"Stop!"  cried  Mr.  Fotheringay  to  the  ad- 
vancing water.  "Oh,  for  goodness'  sake,  stop !" 

"Just  a  moment,"  said  Mr.  Fotheringay  to 
the  lightnings  and  thunder.  "Stop  jest  a  mo- 
ment while  I  collect  my  thoughts.  .  .  . 
And  now  what  shall  I  do?"  he  said.  "What 
shall  I  do  ?  Lord !  I  wish  Maydig  was  about." 


Working  Miracles  357 


"I  know/'  said  Mr.  Fotheringay.  ''And  for 
goodness'  sake  let's  have  it  right  this  time." 

He  remained  on  all  fours,  leaning  against 
the  wind,  very  intent  to  have  everything  right. 

''Ah!"  he  said.  "Let  nothing  what  I'm  go- 
ing to  order  happen  until  I  say  'Off !'  .  .  . 
Lord !   I  wish  I'd  thought  of  that  before !" 

He  lifted  his  little  voice  against  the  whirl- 
wind, shouting  louder  and  louder  in  the  vain 
desire  to  hear  himself  speak.  "Now  then! — 
here  goes !  Mind  about  that  what  I  said  just 
now.  In  the  first  place,  when  all  I've  got  to 
say  is  done,  let  me  lose  my  miraculous  power, 
let  my  will  become  just  like  anybody  else's  will, 
and  all  these  dangerous  miracles  be  stopped.  I 
don't  like  them.  I'd  rather  I  didn't  work  'em. 
Ever  so  much.  That's  the  first  thing.  And 
/'  the  second  is — let  me  be  back  just  before  the 
miracles  begin;  let  everything  be  just  as  it  was 
before  that  blessed  lamp  turned  up.  It's  a  big 
/  job,  but  it's  the  last.  Have  you  got  it?  No 
more  miracles,  everything  as  it  was — me  back 
in  the  Long  Dragon  just  before  I  drank  my 
half-pint.   That's  it !  Yes." 

He  dug  his  fingers  into  the  mould,  closed  his 
eyes,  and  said  "Off !" 

Everything  became  perfectly  still.  He  per- 
ceived that  he  was  standing  erect. 


Time  and  Space 


"So  you  say,"  said  a  voice. 

He  opened  his  eyes.  He  was  in  the  bar  of 
the  Long  Dragon,  arguing  about  miracles  with 
Toddy  Beamish.  He  had  a  vague  sense  of  some 
great  thing  forgotten  that  instantaneously 
passed.  You  see  that,  except  for  the  loss  of  his 
miraculous  powers,  everything  was  back  as  it 
had  been,  his  mind  and  memory  therefore  were 
now  just  as  they  had  been  at  the  time  when 
this  story  began.  So  that  he  knew  absolutely 
nothing  of  all  that  is  told  here,  knows  nothing 
of  all  that  is  told  here  to  this  day.  And  among 
other  things,  of  course,  he  still  did  not  believe 
in  miracles. 

"I  tell  you  that  miracles,  properly  speaking, 
can't  possibly  happen,"  he  said,  "whatever  you 
like  to  hold.  And  I'm  prepared  to  prove  it  up 
to  the  hilt." 

"That's  what  you  think,"  said  Toddy  Beam- 
ish, and  "Prove  it  if  you  can." 

"Looky  here,  Mr.  Beamish,"  said  Mr.  Foth- 
eringay.  "Let  us  clearly  understand  what  a 
miracle  is.  It's  something  contrariwise  to  the 
course  of  nature  done  by  power  of  Will.  . 

THE  END 


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